L'affaire
by The Grand Dutchess
Summary: Maybe having an affair isn't the answer. But if Rhonda's husband is having fun on the side, why shouldn't she? A story told in different cities and years.
1. Paris

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters from Hey Arnold are mine. Only the originals characters I have created to expand the story. Cover art is by Wickfield. It's called 'I was just wondering...' I saw it years ago and fell in love with it. Please check the artist out. As always, reviews will be appreciated.

* * *

 **L'AFFAIRE**

 ** _Paris, December 2014_**

She applied her lipstick. _It'll_ do, she thought, looking into her gold mirror. As the car approached the intersection, she dropped the lipstick into her purse.

" _Arrêtez-vous ici, s'il vous plait,_ " she murmured in fluent French.

The black taxi halted. Its door swung open revealing a set of red patent stilettos. The expensive shoes clacked against the road. There, stood a woman, dressed in a red coat and a white beret, her raven hair blowing in the wind.

 _Slam._

The car door sealed shut.

There was a low purr as the taxi drove away.

Lowering her sunglasses, the woman eyed the building across the street. Hotel Panache.

 _What am I doing?_

She sighed and smacked her lips. An odd habit she had formed before making important decisions. She was already here anyway. With determined steps, she crossed the street, trying her best not to make eye contact with anyone. It pays well to be careful. Someone might recognise her.

She entered the lobby. There was nobody inside except a man dressed in a white uniform. Professional-looking, probably in his mid forties. He was slightly tanned, dark-haired, and had pleasant eyes. He must be the concierge. With a wide smile, she approached him.

" _Bonjour, madame!_ " the man behind the counter greeted. Jaques, it said on his shiny metal name tag.

"B _onjour,"_ she greeted politely, placing her purse on the marble counter.

 _"Comment puis-je vous aider?"_ he asked.

 _"Um… Monsieur Garner m'attend,"_ she said softly, looking around to see if anybody heard. The concierge's reassuring smile reminded her she was being paranoid. There are only the two of them around.

 _Get it together._

The man tilted his head, as if trying to remember. " _Monsieur Garner_ … _Un moment. Laissez-moi vérifier."_

He flipped the pages of the big blue note book in front of him.

 _"Ah, oui. Voila! Monsieur Garner… Hmm, Monsieur Garner attend Madame Smith."_

 _"Je suis Madame Smith."_ she replied.

" _Avez-vous des ID?_ "

She gave him her credit card.

He looked at it and shook his head before returning it to her. _"Non, madame. Un ID avec votre photo?"_

She sighed and handed him her passport. He studied the photo intensely before focusing his narrowed eyes on her face. She felt slightly uncomfortable being scrutinised by this man.

Then, he smiled.

 _"D'accord. Il vous attend,_ " he opened a drawer and pulled out a card key. He handed her both the passport and the key. She glanced at it. The numbers 6004 was stamped in gold.

 _"Voici la carte clé, madame."_

There was an awkward silence as he watched her place her things back in her purse.

She gave him a tight smile before saying, " _Merci beaucoup."_

 _"De rien. Bonne journée!"_ he gestured to his right, the elevator opened just in time. She stepped in.

"Vous aussi," she said under her breath before the silver doors closed.

Good day indeed.

…

Her hand hovered on the door for the longest time. Should she knock? Or should she just enter? Is he even inside? She forgot to ask.

 _Damn it._

Taking a deep breath, she slotted the card key in the tiny slit. With a soft beep and a flash of green light, the door was open. She pushed it aside. It lead to a small receiving room. There was a tiny flat screen on the wall and two plush black sofa chairs. Thick interwoven gold and beige carpeting covered the floor. A tall lamp sat in the corner next to the pulled white curtains. Outside, it continued to snow and Parisians went about their Christmas shopping.

However, there was nobody inside. She closed the door behind her.

Maybe she missed him.

Just as she was about to walk to the door that could only be the bedroom, she saw it. A pair of shiny black shoes.

 _He's here_.

She stared at it. She remembered that she gave him those. College. Senior year. They were Italian, custom-made.

Suddenly, she thought of how this may not have been such a good idea after all. She turned and just as she grasped the door handle, she heard his voice.

"Rhonda?"

She froze. Plastering a smile on her face before she faced him.

 _Oh God. Breath, woman._

He's wearing nothing but a hotel towel around his waist. And his chest… his chest was wet. Glistening. His damp dark hair were hanging in thick strands. It had gotten long, almost touching his wide shoulders.

She gulped. Definitely a bad idea to be here.

"You called so…"

"Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. He walked towards her. She put up both of her hands.

"W-wait!" she yelled.

He quirked a brow, obviously confused.

"Uh, I mean. Aren't you cold? Why not get dressed first?" she suggested. "I'll make both of us coffee while you do."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "First, there's nothing here but shitty 3 in 1 and we both know you don't drink that. Second, doesn't this usually end up with us naked, why bother getting dressed?"

She paused in thought before proceeding to remove her high heels and sitting down on one of the sofas. She didn't look at him but she could feel him watching her, maintaining his distance.

Rhonda looked up at him. "I figured we could talk first."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"Uh, do you mind taking a seat?"

"Not at all."

Thaddeus sat across her, readjusting his towel. Her heart beat just a little quickly as he did that.

He spoke first. "Listen, if you want to end–"

She stopped him. "No, this isn't about that."

Only by sitting down did she notice the painting on the wall. It was a bunch of yellow flowers in a red vase. The only pop of colour in an otherwise dull room. She smiled at the parallels and averted her attention to the person across her. The only pop of colour in her dull life.

"He has another one. In Barbados," she admitted.

He frowned. He was quiet but she knew he's upset. He leaned back in his chair before closing his eyes, his wet hair dripping on the seat.

"So what are you planning to do?" he said.

With a soft breath, she whispered, "Get even."

Gaining courage, she stood up and plopped herself on his lap. His eyes immediately popped open. She looped her arms around his neck. He smelled fresh. Of citrusy shampoo and Dove. She also detected a hint of mint. She leaned in for a kiss that he readily received.

Under her fingers, she felt his skin warm up. And then, burn blazing hot as if he was lit on fire. He bit her lower lip before pulling back. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes. His caramel eyes were dilated with desire. She continued to rub her hands on his smooth shoulders. He gave her a tiny smile and a peck on her left cheek.

She had always found overtly emotional gestures and moments unbearable.

It was easier when the sex was more aggressive, purely for pleasure.

So she trailed kisses down his jaw.

"Rhonda," he groaned while she nibbled on his neck. She ground her hips against him and felt him harden under the measly towel.

He tugged on the sash of her red coat and then started unwrapping her from it. Slowly. Giving kisses on her collar bone then her shoulder, savouring her smooth, delectable skin. He gave an unexpected laugh after seeing what's under her coat.

"What?"

"You couldn't wait to get here, could you?" he whispered, his hot breath blowing on the delicate shell of her ear.

She gave him a saucy smile. "No."

"This is the best Christmas present I have ever received."

Wearing nothing but a black corset and black panties may not have been the smartest thing to do in winter but right then she just couldn't care. It was worth it just seeing that look in his eyes.

A hunger that only she could satiate.

He lead her to the bedroom before he devoured her. It was incredibly satisfying to pull the white hotel towel off him. Her cries of pleasure could be heard from the hallway.

…

The melancholy and the guilt comes after the act. It was always accompanied by silence. The air-conditioning unit sings a soft tune and the sheets rustle. He runs his fingers through her hair. Hers are on his chest. No words are needed.

He knew that she'd be gone in the morning. He's fine with it. What he doesn't like is the thought of her going back home to her big empty mansion waiting for a man who never comes home. She was once in love. He'd seen it. That was why he ached for her when she talked about _him._

What he doesn't know is that she only felt whole when she was with him. A sense of belonging and acceptance she's never felt anywhere else. Only with him. It was why no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stay away. It was wrong. It was dirty. What they're doing was everything against she believed in but that's what made it all the more fun.

As she laid on her childhood nemesis' chest, she thought about why this wasn't how her life turned out. She could have have had this with him every night for the rest of her life. She gave him another kiss. There's no use pondering about it now.

She'll cry about it on the taxi later.

…

There was a note on the side table.

Thanks for being there for me always. - R

He crumpled it up and threw it in the trash before packing up. This business trip affected him more than he imagined.


	2. Hillwood

_**Hillwood, February 2015**_

It was packed. He never expected it to be such a crush. He passed by Nadine at the corner, laughing at something her husband said. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with glasses. He couldn't remember if the guy was an accountant or a lawyer. He had his arm casually slung around his wife.

Maybe he'll say hi to them later. Maybe.

Just across them was Harold with his tiny wife, Laura. If he recalled correctly, she just gave birth a month ago. Rhonda got them an expensive crib as a present for the baby shower. He remembers the time she told him about it. Amazing that tiny facts like that stuck around in his head just because she said it but twenty minutes after leaving an account meeting and he can't remember what had been discussed.

 _Tap tap tap._

His foot couldn't stop moving. There was an anxious rhythm to the way it hit barstool.

She wasn't here yet. Or he just hadn't found her yet. The bar was pretty big. At a red booth seat, Helga and Arnold were having their drinks. When Helga spotted him, she gave a huge wave and gestured for him to come over. He flashed her a quick smile and thumbs up before going towards them, sidestepping a few people in the way. He could never say no to Helga. Nor could anyone really. The brusque girl could be charming if she chose to be and effectively convincing if she she has to be.

"It's quite crowded, isn't it?" he said loudly, to be heard over then. They were talking in hushed tones when he approached.

"Quite," Arnold said.

They looked well and so in love. The kind of love that one saw in movies. It almost made him sick. Helga was wearing a maroon sweater that went well with her blonde hair and Arnold sported a checkered baby blue polo.

"This is cozy. What have you all been up to?" he sighed, finally sitting down.

Helga beamed at him, grasping Arnold's hand. Her husband gave Thaddeus a nod before going back to staring at his wife adoringly. He tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She tried to shoo his hand away, jokingly. Thaddeus could tell by the soft smile on her lips she didn't mind the contact at all.

"Oh, you know, Arnold got promoted, my book's a bestseller…"

"Braggart," Thaddeus teased.

Helga and Arnold laughed.

"And now, well, only today we discovered we're having a baby."

He froze.

Arnold and Helga beamed at him. The longer he kept quiet, the more their smiles slipped.

It wasn't as if it should come as a surprise. Married couples usually have babies, Thaddeus reminded himself. But this was different, it was people he knew from childhood, since kindergarten even, and all of a sudden they're having a child. It all felt very adult.

Then, his face broke into a wide grin. A genuine one. Because no matter how shocking the news was, he was still ridiculously happy for them. He saw the expression of relief on their faces.

"Oh God! Congratulations! This is great news. I'm so happy for you guys. Is it a boy or a girl? Do you know yet?"

Helga laughed, placing her hands up.

"Whoa, slow down, didn't think you out of all people would be so excited about this. I mean, it's sweet but shocking."

"I'm just a little surprised and why shouldn't I be excited? This is amazing," he exclaimed. It might be the tequila shots he had taken earlier that have been amplifying the excitement or his bipolar mania. They don't need to know that.

"Thanks, Curly," Arnold said in his gentle way.

Thaddeus froze again. Arnold was the only one who still called him that. Nobody calls his that. Except… well, and even then, only in the throes of passion.

"So, boy or girl?" he said, trying to calm his nerves by gulping down his drink.

 _Yeah, Curly. More alcohol is definitely what you need._

Arnold narrowed his eyes. Maybe Arnold suspected the news was freaking him out. The man was intuitive even when they had been children.

Helga shrugged, tilting her head to one side. Like she was trying to figure out what was truly going on. "We don't know yet."

Another intuitive and highly curious Shortman. He had to choose his next words wisely.

"What are you planning to name him or her? Hav–"

The door opened and there was a chorus of cheers. He glanced to see who it was. He released a breath. She could have picked a better time to arrive.

His sentence trailed off as he looked at her. As usual, she was stunning, dressed in a white and red striped number. It was a strapless dress that fanned out into a poofy skirt from the waist down. He stared at her bare shoulders and her delicious neck. The neck he had become well acquainted with.

Arnold and Helga followed his eyes. Helga interjected with a snide remark.

"Still her, huh? Geez, you'd think you'll be over it by now. You do realise she's married, right?" she said.

"Helga!" Arnold chided. He shot Thaddeus an apologetic look.

"What?" she replied, taking a sip of her drink. "He's better off."

Thaddeus wasn't paying attention to them. He was noticing the man attached to the crook of her arm, Edward 'Eddy' Smith. One of the richest men in the country. Also, her husband. His jaw tightened.

 _Smarmy son of a bitch._

Helga was watching them too. "God, I hate him. Look at his smug face. Not even 10 seconds in this bar and he already looks like he's going to catch a disease by being here. He still probably doesn't know who we are."

Helga was right. Eddy's eyes swept the place, his mouth curled in masked disgust.

"I bet he wears a ton of cologne," she whispered. "To mask the smell of cold hard cash."

At that, Thaddeus laughed and went back to paying attention to the couple in the booth. He had to be careful tonight. He couldn't be seen too eager to talk to her or stare at her for too long. It'll draw attention.

But even as he thought that, he felt the back of his neck prickle and knew she was the one staring at him. He pictured her face in his mind, the tanned skin and pouty red lips… the hazel eyes that sparkled and changed colour depending on the light. Teal in the daylight and gingerbread in the dark.

"That's not very nice, Helga," Arnold chided. "He could be a decent guy for all we know."

Helga snorted. "How decent could he be if he cheats on her?"

Once again, Helga's knowledge of such private matters struck him. Arnold just shook his head. How did Helga know about that? And Arnold too? Was it common knowledge?

He feigned innocence. "He cheats on her?"

Helga nodded but there wasn't a hint smugness in her expression. There was only regret. As though she wished a better circumstance for Rhonda.

"Lucy Marlowe, went to middle school with us, always runs her mouth about how he takes her to exotic locales for dates and _dessert_ afterwards. You know how gossip spreads around this town."

Arnold was keeping quiet but Thaddeus could tell from his expression that he didn't like where the conversation had gone. It surprised him when out of the blue he spoke up.

"She should leave him," he said in a firm tone.

Helga faced her husband and scowled. "Just a second ago you said to give him a chance and that he might be a decent guy."

Thaddeus knew when to keep quiet in front of a couple. It's usually during times when the two have gone to only addressing each other. He watched as the conversation between the pair turned sour.

"He still might be. Just stuck in a loveless marriage. But she should definitely leave him for his transgressions."

"How could he be a decent guy and a cheater?" Helga's tone was angrier then.

"People make mistakes and more often than not we are swayed by emotions, not logic," he calmly replied.

"Are you justifying his cheating?" she asked, now obviously furious.

"Absolutely not. All I'm saying is that we don't see the entire picture but based on what you've said, she should definitely end the marriage. She's been dismal since the wedding. Do you even say hi to Rhonda or check up on her? She always seems sad. She may only be staying married out of loyalty and responsibility to her parents."

Helga shut up after that. She and Rhonda may not have been the best of friends growing up but they had been friends. Friendly enough for Rhonda to invite her and Arnold to her wedding a few years ago. She never really thought about how the heiress might be fairing currently. The guilt was evident on her face, Thaddeus observed.

"Well, someone should tell her she deserves better," Helga said, looking pointedly at Thaddeus.

In response, he took another swig. As he put down the half-empty glass, he said, "Great plan. She's really going to listen to her childhood stalker."

There was an awkward silence that filled the table. Thaddeus and Helga still stared at each other, challenging one another to back down. She sighed. Arnold chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. They both ignored him.

"Let's just all agree this conversation has taken a really weird turn," Thaddeus said. "Let's talk about your baby instead. Have you guys decided to tell anyone else?"

The couple took the chance to change the subject. They informed him that they've chosen a godfather. It was no surprise that it's Gerald. He and Phoebe weren't at the reunion because of a convention but they had been informed over the phone just that afternoon.

Arnold's family have also been told of the good news. Helga was going to tell her sister over the weekend. Thaddeus was touched to realise he was one of the first few to know. They spoke of other things to catch up like who had gotten married, who had gotten fired from their jobs, and who else have had children.

"You have to be at the baby shower," Helga said, just as their order of hot wings reached the table.

She gave a delighted squeal and reached for one.

"Sorry about the pig show. It's the cravings," she explained as the waiter came back with another plate. "I don't understand why it's hot wings that comes to mind. I always thought it would be pork floss."

Arnold just beamed happily, rubbing his wife's shoulders. "Don't forget the ice cream. It has to be rocky road or she'll throw a tantrum."

She snorted, an admirable feat when it's done at the same time as stuffing one's face with chicken. "I do not throw tantrums. And how could I forget since you always eat half of it?"

"Guilty as charged."

"I really don't have to be at a baby shower," Thaddeus interjected. "I have no business there."

Watching them, he felt a pang of envy. They had such an easygoing relationship. Filled with trust, friendship and love. Being with them, it's so easy to be fooled into dreaming that it could happen to anyone. Thaddeus knew how hard it was to find love like that. He'd settled for less.

 _Her._

Less. Was it less? Or was it exactly what he needed? Had he become greedy?

Recently, there had been a growing urge to tell the world that Rhonda was his and he was hers if she'll have him. It was one of those stupid impulses he got like stripping naked in a vicinity of a lake or unlocking cages at a zoo.

Things that he had gotten under control when puberty arrived. He really need to get back on his meds.

"Well, well, well… What do we have here? Mind if I join you?" her voice cut through his thoughts.

There she was, smiling down at him. _Ma_ _coeur_. Her eyes settled on him just a tad longer than necessary before moving to Helga and Arnold.

Helga shrugged, continuing to eviscerate the plate of wings in her path and Arnold gestured for her to have a seat. "It's great to see you, Rhonda."

"Likewise," she happily replied. She turned to Thaddeus.

"Scoot," she commanded.

He did. Her bossiness shot a thrill through him. After he moved, she took a seat beside him. Then, she placed her unseen hand on his lap. He gulped.

"So, how are all of you?" she inquired, pouring herself some iced tea from the pitcher. Her other hand was busy rubbing his thigh under the table. Thaddeus wanted to groan.

"Just great, Princess," Helga said. "You'd never guess what happened."

"Did you bully another grocer to give you a 20% discount?" she asked flatly.

Helga mumbled, "No! That was one time. I swear you never let me live it down. Not all of us are filthy rich like you."

Rhonda smirked. "It's sad, really."

Helga glared at her before giving her a wide grin. "I have better news. Arnold and I are having a kid."

"Helga!" Arnold exclaimed. "I really wish you'd warn me before just spouting of the news."

Thaddeus wanted to laugh at his reaction before he spared a glance at Rhonda. If she was surprised, she was covering her shock well. He hardly knew the news affected her if she didn't tighten her grip on his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh.

"Congratulations," she said smoothly, taking a sip from her glass.

"Thanks. Now that we've got that out of the way– wait, where's your husband?" Helga asked.

Rhonda smiled. A smile that made her tense around the eyes. "Don't mind him. He's a big boy. He's talking to Lila."

Sure enough, beside the jukebox, there was Eddy Smith talking to a tall, slim, gorgeous redhead in a tight midnight green dress. He appeared to be flirting with her but she seemed to be having none of it. If her polite smile was an indication, she wanted to escape the conversation fast.

She was looking around the room for someone to rescue her.

"I see. I thought I'd never see him in these type of functions," Helga commented.

"I had to bribe him with new golf clubs," Rhonda revealed with that same tight smile.

"What are they talking about?" Helga said after watching the two. Rhonda glanced at her husband and frowned.

"Beats me," she said, focusing back on Helga. "I read your book, I loved it."

If anybody noticed the change in subject, nobody commented on it.

One Helga's brows raised. "Oh yeah? It's not too sappy?"

"Not at all. Very romantic. I loved the ending."

Helga laughed, offering the last few wings to Arnold. He happily munched on them.

"I thought you would."

Rhonda smiled. "Did you do the re-write after my suggestion?"

He noticed her hand was still on his thigh. The spot where it was burned a hole through his pants.

"Of course, I did."

There was always a sense of camaraderie between Rhonda and Helga but this was news to the two men.

"You give her writing advice? And she takes it?" Arnold asked the heiress. "She never listens to what I have to say about her writing."

"You're probably too nice. Helga wants someone to give it to her straight. A critique is what she needs, not praise," she comforted him.

Taking her husband's hand in hers, Helga said, "Sorry, darling, she's right. In addition, she minored in English Literature. The second reason is the one that holds more weight actually.

It had been a shock to everyone that Rhonda did not pursue fashion in college. Instead, she chose to be an Art History major with a minor in Literature. Her father deemed them useless degrees but she disagreed. It paid to be cultured, especially in their circles. She travelled Europe during her studies. It was during one of those travels that she crossed path with her childhood nemesis.

 _Curly? What the hell are you doing here in Rome?_

 _I could ask you the same, sweets…_

"I recommended it to my reading club, they all love it."

"It's because it panders to women," Helga said, unashamed. "My demographic is bored married ladies."

"The great Helga Pataki short changing herself. Hell must have frozen over. Besides, I know a guy who's read it," Rhonda said before turning to Thaddeus, her hand now back stroking his thigh. She grinned at him. "What did you think of it?"

His tongue seemed to have stopped working because no words wanted to come out of his mouth. He could only focus on her hand.

Helga laughed, "You've read my book?"

He didn't want to make a big deal of it. "It was a show of support," was all he could say. He was distracted by the roaming hand. It was getting dangerously close to his package.

Helga hadn't stopped laughing. "I'm touched, really."

"I'm glad," he said flatly, finally having the courage to put his hand on top of Rhonda's. He heard her gasp beside him. A sound so soft that if he hadn't been expecting it he would have missed it.

He wanted to take her away from this bustling restaurant. Away from the expectations. Away from the cheating husband. And yes, he knew exactly how hypocritical that sounded.

"Rhonda!" Eddy called. He must have pissed Lila off because she was running for the bar and she never drinks. In the corner of his eye, he saw her down what appeared to be a whiskey shot.

Eddy was quickly making his way over.

Thaddeus discreetly snatched back his hand. Rhonda did the same.

"Hello, I'm Eddy Smith," the tall man introduced himself to the table even though it was the fifth time they'd all met. He still doesn't have any clue who they were.

"Hi," they all greeted him. They had gotten used to this by the third introduction. It made Arnold angry, Thaddeus knew, but Mr. Nice Guy that he was, he never said anything for fear of embarrassing Rhonda.

Speaking of Rhonda, she was furious. "You've met my friends before. Why are you introducing yourself? Again."

At that, Eddy's ears turned red. He didn't like being made to look a fool.

"Of course, I remember them, _sweetheart._ "

Thaddeus had never heard a pet name uttered so venomously. Eddy's distress amused him. He stifled a smile.

Eddy pointed at Helga. "You're the writer, right?"

So he did remember, he just doesn't think they were important enough to acknowledge. Thad knew Arnold realised the same thing, his knuckles were turning white. Not a lot of people could push Arnold to the edge. This guy had been there less than a minute and he is rapidly succeeding.

Helga, paying no attention to her husband's irritation, nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Would you like to join us?" she asked in a tone that clearly suggested she rather he didn't.

"Oh, I can't. I'm just here to escort Rhonda home. Early meeting tomorrow. Are you ready, honey?"

Beside him, Rhonda was becoming more enraged, her jaw was set and her eyes narrowed. "We haven't even been here an hour."

"I know but I told you about the meeting before we left. I have to be at Chicago by ten tomor–"

She stood up suddenly. "It's fine. Let's go."

It wasn't fine. He didn't know when he'll see her again. He'd been looking forward to spending time with her for months but they had to keep up with appearances.

"Sorry guys, I have to get going. It's nice to see you here tonight," she said. Helga and Arnold stood up to give her a hug. "Congratulations again. You guys will make wonderful parents. Call me about the baby shower."

Thaddeus stayed put.

"Curly," she said, just giving him a nod. To everyone's knowledge, they're still not that friendly towards each other. Eddy stood by the side, glancing at his Patek Philippe watch.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Have a good evening."

She smiled before she was dragged away by her husband. It wasn't until they were out of the bar that Arnold spoke. He and Helga sat back down.

"You're right. I don't think he's decent at all."

Helga giggled. She rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "You looked like you were about to give him one of your karate chops. It was hot."

The man blushed.

"Geez, I'm right here. Talking like that is probably what got you pregnant," Thaddeus said. Arnold laughed and Helga gave Thaddeus a murderous glare.

He was reaching for his glass when he noticed a piece of paper on the seat Rhonda occupied. He pocketed it before announcing he needed to go to the toilet. The couple went back to flirting with each other and he slipped away. It was only at the vacant men's room he opened the note.

 _Ritz-Carlton. 7pm. 22. Sunday. - R_

Thaddeus beamed. Maybe the night wasn't so hopeless after all.


	3. Rome

**_Rome, September 2005_**

The Colosseo stood before her, tall and proud. She felt slightly intimidated by its history. It's certainly impressive. Although, as she took a closer look, a bit distasteful and extravagant. There were four layers and each of them had columns of a different style. Sort of like a cake decorated by a mad baker.

Still, the building was a testament to the intelligence and pride of men and there had been thousands of people who have marvelled at its grandeur for centuries. People who have stood where she was standing. It was extremely depressing to note that her existence was only a blink of an eye. This monument would still be standing proud even when she had already passed on.

 _Happy thoughts, Rhonda. You're in Rome. You're not being watched by your parents. You have absolute freedom. You're here to make friends and you've met a lot of lovely people._

 _Friends… Wait, what the… where the hell is everybody?_

She frantically looked around and saw nobody from her tour group. Panic started to swell in her chest. She had been so busy taking pictures she didn't realise her group had moved on. Where could they be?

Relief washed over her when she saw a man standing by himself, looking up at the structure. She could only see his back. He was dressed in a brown jacket and old jeans. The man was tall, lanky really. He had a mop of jet black hair and a backpack strapped on his right shoulder. He must be with the tour group.

 _Please be with the tour group._

She approached him and cleared her throat.

" _Scusami_ ," she said in what little Italian she knew.

He turned around and Rhonda's jaw dropped. The young man was just as surprised as she was. When he recovered, he flashed her the same grin he's been giving her since kindergarten.

" _Ciao, bella,"_ he greeted. "Fancy seeing you here.

"Curly? What the hell are you doing here in Rome?"

"I could ask you the same, sweets," he replied, adjusting his backpack.

She narrowed her eyes. "I asked you first. Are you stalking me?"

He looked offended at that.

"Stalk you?" he snorted. "Oh yes, I forgot. Welcome to Princess Rhonda Land where everything is about her."

Right. He hadn't shown interest in her since middle school. Curly, or Thad as he preferred to be called nowadays, had dated several girls in high school. None of them had been her. Who knew he only needed to find his niche to be popular? Running away from bullies in elementary and middle school had given him an amazing advantage when he joined track freshman year.

From then on, the rest was history. There was a gradual shift in his popularity. Rhonda never noticed because it happened slowly but soon _Thad_ was getting invited to all the parties she was invited to and had began dating all the girls she was friendly with. It was surreal. It was like everybody was celebrating opposite day. If the early years of their education had been cruel to Cur- _Thad_ , they were certainly warming up to him now.

And by the time they graduated, he had almost been named king. King! Arnold beat him in the end but still! He was almost titled prom king! Rhonda still couldn't believe nor see it. What was suddenly so different? He still looked the same to her.

Granted, he had ditched the bowl cut for a more expensive do. There was the sleek clothes as well. Probably thrift store or secondhand since they were way too expensive for a dry-cleaner's son. So, he had changed. Personally, the attitude was more noticeable rather than the physical. He walked with more confidence. Most of his anti-social tendencies became a thing of the past. If people talked about them, he just shrugged it off and laughed.

But he was noticeably different specifically with her. He'd become grumpier when she was around, less patient with her as they got older, and always happily ready with a snippy remark on how conceited she was. Their relationship has become antagonistic.

She told herself she didn't mind but it bothered her big time. She didn't know if it was pride or wistfulness but she preferred it when he thought she was a goddess who could do no wrong.

Those days were well over.

"Well, history has been said to repeat itself," she growled.

"Not this history," he snapped back.

Great, now they were arguing again. It made her feel as if she was back home, in high school. Although she had already completed a year of college and frankly, more mature. Her recent behaviour says otherwise.

"Whatever. I need to find my group," she said, starting to walk away.

"You mean the ones who left in the bus five minutes ago? Good luck with that," he said, behind her.

She froze. They had left? Without her? How was she supposed to go back to her hotel. Goddamn it. Why hadn't she paid attention? The panic came back. She stopped. She turned around to ask him more questions.

Thad must have noticed her reaction because the concern in his face was apparent. "Are you alright?"

She wished her voice didn't sound as choked up when she replied. How pathetic. "I'm fine."

Her bag was with her, she could go back, if only she remembered the name of the hotel. Why did she think she'd be able to handle herself in a foreign country?

Was her father right?

She shook her head. No. This trip was to prove him wrong. To show how independent she was.

Rhonda saw Thad's confused look. He probably thought she was crazy, just shaking her head while saying she was fine. How had it progressed to this? She had somehow become the neurotic one. He probably wanted to laugh at her.

"Are you sure it was a tour bus?" she asked, just to confirm. No use panicking if her group is still around which she had a feeling is now highly unlikely.

"It said Star Travels on the side," he said.

"Fuck," she cursed. It was her tour group.

Thad laughed. It was a rich sound that filled her ears. Her humiliation grew.

She frowned. When had he become so grown up? He sounded so much more masculine than when they were in school. He was taller than her now. He had been for a while but she still hadn't gotten used to it. She glanced up at him. There was that smile…

"You know, I could give you a ride. Which hotel are you staying at?" he said casually.

That offer was lovely but… "I don't remember the name."

One of his brows shot up. "You don't know where you're staying?"

She sighed. This was what she hated. Being belittled and mistaken for a dumbass but right now he had a point. It was dangerous to not know where she's staying. Immigration officers could detain her if she doesn't know information like that. She could be mistaken for an illegal immigrant.

"Give me a break, I've been here less than twenty hours and I am jet lagged."

"Doesn't excuse the fact you don't know which hotel you're staying at."

"I know it by sight," she said through gritted teeth.

He laughed, it was a sarcastic one. "That's useful. You only need to drive around Rome for two days to find it."

Suddenly, she remembered something. "Look, I'll accept the ride. If you can bring me near a telephone, I'll be out of your hands. I'll call the tour guide. I have his number."

Rhonda lost her cellphone while walking around last night. She had been warned of pickpockets but had no idea they would be so prevalent. One moment her phone was in her bag, the next moment she dug around, it wasn't.

This trip was becoming a nightmare. And now, there was her childhood nemesis on top of the trouble sundae.

He tilted his head in consideration. "You ever ridden a Vespa?"

Rhonda had never but she'd dreamed of it. She was excited by the prospect.

"No, do I get to ride one?"

Maybe the trip wasn't going to be that bad after all.

He smiled. "Do you still want to look around or do you want to go back? I've taken all the photos I wanted." In his hands was a sleek professional-looking camera.

She suddenly felt self conscious of her Polaroid.

"Me too. We can go back."

Rhonda observed the iconic Roman wonder for a while. Thaddeus did the same thing. It was so odd. Both of them just admiring the building together. It felt intimate.

"It's really magnificent up close," she said quietly. She didn't mean to. The words just escaped her lips.

"Yeah," he whispered.

They stood there in silence for quite some time.

He spoke first. "You ready to go now?"

She nodded. She didn't know when she'd be back but it felt wonderful to finally go to the places she only saw in her art history books.

The walk to the parking spot was quiet. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him like "why was he here?" but she figured they could wait.

"We're here," he announced stopping in front of a beat up Volkswagen. She couldn't see a Vespa anywhere. There was only this old car. The bastard took the keys from his pocket and winked at her. It all made sense. She wanted to strangle him.

"I hate you," she said.

He laughed once again and she had the desire to punch the corner of his mouth.

"You make it too easy to trick you. Why the hell would I zip around the city in a Vespa? I'm not in a romantic comedy."

That was for damned certain, Rhonda thought. He couldn't be her leading man. Grudgingly, she opened the door and hopped in. She hopes no one finds out about this. Her and Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, together in Rome, one of the most romantic cities in the world. How ironic.

…

During the ride, the jet lag had started to catch up to her. She fell asleep with her head leaning on the glass. She woke up only when she hit her head on the window as he made a sharp turn.

"Argh!" she yelped. "Damn it!"

"Sorry," he said. Rhonda noticed how focused and alert he was behind the wheel. It was sort of… she hated to admit it, attractive. Oh great, now she was finding Thaddeus bleeping Gammelthorpe attractive. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. Or it's just the effect of being in Rome.

Then, she wondered how he has a license to drive around.

"Do you at least know what street your hotel is in?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She yawned and looked out. They were in the center of the city now. It was extremely crowded, filled to the brim with tourists and locals. They were going around a cul-de-sac.

"No, sorry. Can you just bring me to your hotel? I can use the concierge desk's phone."

"Why? Don't you have a cell phone with you?" he asked, making a left hand turn.

"I lost it," she said quietly but he heard her.

"What do you mean you lost it?"

"Exactly what it means, I had it and then I lost it." She didn't mean to sound so flippant, like a petulant child, but he was getting on her nerves. He was a constant reminder of her incapability. It was the opposite of her goal. To prove to her parents that she was an independent young woman fully capable of taking charge of her own destiny.

"How are you so hopeless?" he muttered under his breath.

"Well, you didn't have to help me," she snapped.

"Really? You're kidding, right? If I didn't, you'd probably still be at the Coliseum looking lost, attracting con artists ready to exploit a tourist."

"I could have taken public transport," she argued.

"Without knowing a word of Italian and not knowing where you're staying. Yeah, you would have been just fine."

She was starting to miss older Curly. The one who was obsessively in love with her. This mocking version of her childhood enemy was unsettling. It also pains her he was bringing up a lot of good points. Points she were already aware of.

"Just take me to your hotel," she sighed.

"I've never met anyone so forward," he teased.

She stopped and looked at him. He had a small smile on his face, as if he was stopping himself from releasing a full blown laugh fest.

Rhonda let out a laugh. She hadn't had much to laugh about recently but seeing that dumb expression on his face made her break. It felt good.

"Do you ever turn it off?" she asked.

"What?"

"That annoying sex appeal."

That made him laugh even louder. She was glad the animosity between them had almost dissipated.

"Thank you for your help," she said.

The light was red. He gave her a long look before saying, "No problem."

The car moved again.

Her stomach did a flip. Not just out of hunger. There was something about that look that spooked her. It woke her up and made the tips of her fingers tingle. She kept her mouth shut after that.

He didn't say anything either until they pulled up in front of an old brick building. Rhonda narrowed her eyes. Wait a minute, there was something familiar about this street. That shop they'd pass by, she'd seen it before.

"You can use the phone now. I'm staying here. I'll park the car while you talk to the concierge."

Rhonda stared up at the sign.

"If I talk to the concierge, it'll be about room service," she whispered and got out.

He hurriedly got out of the car too. She didn't pay attention to him, she was looking up at the giant letters.

 _Forum Hotel._

"You're staying here too?"

Out of all the cheap hotels in Rome… She nodded before saying, "Weird, huh?"


	4. Chicago

**_Chicago, March 2013_**

He gave one more thrust before he fell on top of her, panting.

There were no words to say. They had just committed adultery. What were they thinking? What was _he_ thinking? This was all his fault.

 _It takes two to tango._

True, but he was the one who initiated it. She was vulnerable. She needed comfort. And he screwed her over, literally. He wanted to run but her arms were wound around his neck, stroking his nape.

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

He snuggled deeper into her chest. Maybe if he buried himself deep enough, he'll disappear.

"Could you stop thinking?" she finally said. "This is all on me. I'm the one that came over. Stop feeling guilty."

He couldn't. She was married for crying out loud. It was wrong and yet there was a sense of poetic justice to this. As if the universe had finally thrown him a gift. It was in the way that she played with his hair and the feeling of satisfaction as he listened to her heartbeat slowing down.

Thaddeus had come home after a long day from work, eager to chow down his take out. Instead, he found the heiress to the Lloyd fortune, crying on his sofa. She had told him in broken sobs that she had suspected for some time that he husband wasn't being faithful. A strewn plane ticket for two had confirmed it. At least that was the story he pieced together, from what he could make out from her blubbering.

He took her in his arms. He told her everything was going to be alright. And then… she looked up at him with doe eyes.

And kissed him.

Deep. Passionate. A kiss to forget.

It progressed to the bedroom. They suddenly had too many clothes on. Quick hands and even quicker eyes roamed bodies. It was rough and uninhibited, wild and unthinking. They haven't been thinking. He had let his friend down below do the thinking for him and now he was fucked. If her husband finds out…

"He's not going to find out."

"How the hell are you reading my mind?" he snapped, the afterglow of the lovemaking quickly vanishing.

She laughed. It vibrated through his head. "I know how you are."

It was quiet after that. He listened to her steady breathing. He thought she had fallen asleep until she started speaking.

"Do you remember what you said before I got married?" she whispered.

"Yeah. I do," he said, unsure of where this was going. There was a pit forming in his stomach.

He heard her sigh. "I thought about it. Again and again. It haunted me. I wish you never said it."

"I can't take it back." Or rather, he won't. Why is she bringing this up?

"But do you stand by it?" she asked, her tone hopeful.

He swallowed the sadness brought on by the memory.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Positive," he said flatly, starting to get up. He glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30. His dinner had been forgotten. His stomach reminded him once again that he needed to eat.

"What if…" she continued.

He made his way to the kitchen. He didn't want to hear the made up scenarios. There was only now and what had been. There were footsteps that followed him.

"If I didn't mar–"

"But you did."

He opened the fridge to dig around for his food.

"Well, let's just say hypothetically that I didn't. What do you thi–"

"Rhonda," he said as he slammed the fridge. The sound echoed in his apartment. "Just. Can you be quiet for a second? I really need to think."

"I see." Her tone was cold. It was tycoon's daughter voice. The one that she used when she meant business and wasn't pleased.

He rubbed his face. This night was going downhill anyway. Might as well.

"You're upset with your husband because he cheated on you–"

"Great job, detective."

"–but I think you're just lashing out. You're not going to leave him. In fact, you're going back to him tomorrow morning. Either that or kiss your inheritance goodbye, right? Wasn't that the deal?"

She looked like he might as well have slapped her. Good. She needed a reality check. Not for him to expand her fantasies. There was no them. There never was. This was a fluke. A one time thing.

Her voice cracked, "I would have picked you."

She also knew how to hit him where it hurt the most. They had known each other too long and too deeply to expect less.

"I know," he whispered. "That's why you need to go back."

The first few tears fell then. Soon, she was sobbing. But when he came closer to comfort her, she held her hand out.

"No. I'll dry them myself. Thank you very much."

That was all she said before she picked up her things, got dressed and left his apartment.

He didn't feel like eating anymore.


	5. Rome II

**_Rome, September 2005_**

It was a complete shock to see her in Rome out of all places. He didn't want to let on how delighted he was just to be around her but if he had to guess, she never suspected anything. He's had years of practice to turn his affection to what seemed like loathing.

Ah, Rhonda Lloyd. The woman of his dreams.

Annoyingly, he was the stuff of her nightmares.

Even when he had climbed their high school's social ladder, he knew she was still out of his reach. It was still apparent in the way she talked to him. As if she had stepped on something disgusting with her expensive shoes.

But there was this one afternoon, he remembered, after study period where she had been cordial to him. At least, at first.

 _"I saw you at Shelly's party. You looked like you were having a good time. Who was that blonde you were with?" she asked, tucking a strand of ebony hair behind the delicate shell of her ear._

 _She never talked to him unless he approached her first. This was new. He couldn't help the happy glow that spread in his chest._

 _Blonde? Farrah Romero?_

 _Was she jealous?_

 _He had to know._

 _"Why? Jealous?"_

 _She laughed. He loved that sound. It was music to his ears. He put on a smirk to give an air of nonchalance._

 _"No, curious. Curious as to why anyone would want date you."_

 _Ouch. That hurt._

 _She must have noticed that her comment upset him because she recovered quickly._

 _"Hey, I'm kidding." He almost flinched when she touched his arm. "I just… I wanted to say you guys look good together."_

 _He covered the pain with a smile. "Thanks."_

 _She paused before saying, "So, you're probably going to ask her to prom, right?"_

 _No. He wanted to ask Rhonda to the prom. However, judging from her earlier insult, he expected the answer to be no._

 _"Yeah…"_

 _She smiled. He noticed that it was real. Not the one that she flashed when someone was annoying her but she had to be polite. This was the smile she has on when she's hanging out with her closest friends. The smile that lit up her whole face and filled the world with possibilities._

 _"That's great," she glanced at her watch. "Oops, I'm late for my next class. I'll see you around...Thad."_

 _Not Curly. Not anymore. But Thad, the name she had refused to call him by for several years, now uttered so easily just when they were about to graduate._

 _Suddenly, he had an overwhelming urge to throw up or punch something._

…

That happened about a year ago but as he watched her sleep at the corner of his eye, the memory came back.

She was still every bit the spoiled heiress that she was when they finished high school. Out of touch with the real world and helpless when left alone. He wondered what had brought her to Rome. She mentioned that she had a tour guide. Maybe she was on vacation?

Whatever it was, he knew her purpose would immediately separate her from him. And then, maybe he'd see her in a couple of years during a reunion. His first love still out of reach. Beside him, she let out a soft snore. He could only savour the moment.

He smiled.

…

"Weird, huh?" she said, staring up at the hotel.

"Yeah, weird," he mumbled.

He tossed the keys to the valet who caught it with a practiced ease.

It was weird and such a great coincidence. Never in a million years could he dream up a scenario so crazy. First, she shows up out of nowhere. Second, she's staying at the same hotel as him. Has fate finally thrown him a redemption card? To make up for all the failures he's had with her when they were younger? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to let this chance slip through his fingers.

"Since we're both staying here…" he started.

"What?" she asked, quite waspishly. It occured to him maybe it wasn't just her usual attitude with him. He saw the exhaustion on her pretty face. There was dark shadows under her eyes and her usually glowing skin appeared paler than normal. The jet lag was hitting her hard.

"Nothing. I just thought you'd want to eat lunch. I know a place. It's already one o'clock. I know you're hungry. I've been hearing your stomach growl in the car."

"Oh dear god," she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it. Kept me awake. Driving can be really boring," he joked.

She started going up the steps of the hotel. He fell into step with her. "Driving in Rome? Boring? Are you blind? There's so much to see."

He shrugged. "If you've been here long enough it gets boring. You of all people should know how restless I could be."

She nodded. It wasn't really a secret that he has ADHD. When he got diagnosed, it finally explained his lack of focus when it came to anything menial. However, the condition also gave him hyper focus when it came to things he was passionate about like science and mathematics. History and art required more effort on his part.

Those were the two things Rhonda excelled at. Not that he noticed.

Just as he opened the door for her, her stomach growled again. She groaned and he laughed. She shoved a finger in his face and her chin tilted up. She looked every bit as much as the rich girl that she was.

"No laughing. Yes to the lunch. I'll meet you here in the lobby in ten minutes. I need to change my clothes. If I'm not here in ten, ask the concierge to ring me up. I've probably face planted on the bed out of fatigue."

After her grand speech, she marched up to one of the open elevators and disappeared from his view behind the golden doors.

He wanted to let out a whoop. Rhonda was having lunch with him. Instead, he settled for a wide smile.

…

She was so exhausted.

Rhonda pulled on her clothes to remove them. She tossed the dirty laundry into the cloth bin provided by the hotel and grabbed the most casual thing in her opened suitcase. It was a deep green sundress. Nadine always said it brought out the emerald in her eyes.

She put on and then thought about spritzing some perfume. Why did she care what she smelled like all of a sudden? It's not as if it was a date. She sprayed some on her neck anyway. The gentle flowery scent filled the room immediately.

There might be some handsome Italian men at the restaurant Thad's taking her.

So maybe she decided to swipe on some nude lipstick too. Nothing wrong with looking good.

She sat down on the bed to remove her hightop sneakers. Maybe she could wear her new black pumps. It was still in the box it came in when she bought it yesterday.

When her feet was finally bare, she laid down her bed and closed her eyes for a second. The cold, smooth white sheets felt good against her skin. How much time does she still have left? The sharp ringing of the phone gave her an answer. She groaned before crawling to the side table.

"Hello?"

To her surprise, it wasn't the front desk that greeted her.

"Are we still on for lunch? It's been twelve minutes," his deep voice travelled through the phone.

"Sorry, I was about to doze off. Yeah, I'll be down in a minute."

She owed him a meal, at the very least, for helping her out. Even though the bed was screaming for her to stay. Her stomach growled again.

 _Definitely go for lunch._

"I know you're tired so if you want to cancel, it's fine."

She was touched by his concerned tone. Even though he gave her a lot of crap for being an arrogant bitch in high school, Thad always thought of her well-being. In the ways that counted.

 _"Let me help you with those books…"_

 _"Sure, I can give you a ride home."_

 _"Do you need help with Algebra? I could tutor you. I heard from Mr. Sellers you weren't doing well."_

She sighed. "Let's go for lunch. I'm so frigging hungry. I also have a lot of questions to ask you. Sleep can wait."

Rhonda hung up and quickly grabbed the black heels before dashing for the door. She made a quick stop by the full body mirror. After checking that everything was passable, she couldn't spare more time to do a good job with the concealer to hide the bags, she snatched the card key and opened the door.

When she reached the lobby, he was sitting in the lobby talking to an American woman who looked like she was asking for directions. Just as she reached them, the woman was thanking him.

"What's that about?"

"Just a tourist who was lost." He gave her a pointed look.

"It's everybody's lucky day. Thaddeus the Tourist Saviour is here," she proclaimed. She was scared he'd be offended but was relieved when he cracked a smile. He stood up and gave her whole body a scan.

He smiled when he noticed she made an effort. It made her skin feel hot.

 _What the fuck? Get it together. He's not interested… And you're not, as well. We are two classmates, catching up, having lunch together. In Rome._

In her heels, she was almost as tall as him. It was easier to see his wide brown eyes. The eye contact stole her breath away. He was too close. Too tall. Too…

Urgh, he smelled good too.

 _Fuckity fuck._

There was something that Rhonda had always tried to ignore. She certainly did a good job of it in school. Why couldn't she now? It was the fact that Thaddeus Gammelthorpe had grown up to be kind of handsome. Being in track gave him a lean physique and although he still wore glasses, it did nothing to hide his striking face.

She gulped before noticing he'd gotten rid of his backpack and changed his shirt. He must have gone to his room as well.

He extended a hand to her, "Shall we?"

She sniffed and walked past him. He chuckled behind her.

"This place better be good."

He caught up to her. It was so easy for him to do since she was walking in heels. "Authentic Italian cuisine. What more could you want?"

"This is Italy. Everything is authentic Italian here." Her heels made satisfying clacks they went down the stone steps.

"Not as authentic as the place we're going."

As they walked, they made small talk. Stuff about their high school and what they had been up to since graduation. She noticed he steered clear of the reasons why he was in Rome. She didn't reveal hers either.

When they reached the place, the smell of Italian cooking hit her. If she was hungry before, she was starving now. She was surprised how he knew the place. It was a little out of the way and you had to walk a bit from the main roads. The building was old but it wasn't falling apart. It was charming and everything she had dreamed of before coming to Italy. There were tables outside covered with checkered tablecloths. A huge wooden sign that boasted the word _Ristorante_ was hanging by the side. There were a few people enjoying their espresso in the sun, reading their paper.

It was a very laid back atmosphere. She decided immediately that she loved this place.

Thad lead her inside. The head waiter appeared to know him and greeted him in Italian. The boy she had known since childhood responded to him in perfect Italian before they were whisked away to a booth.

Only when they were seated and given their menus did she speak.

"Okay, you're going to have to run this by me again but you speak Italian, right? I wasn't like dreaming or anything when I saw you with the maître d' just now. It's not a hallucination brought on by the fatigue, right?"

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He adjusted his glasses. "Yeah, I do. Why?"

"I just, wow. I never knew," she said. It was all she could say, due to her surprise.

"There's lots of things you don't know about me," he said. The words were spoken in such a deep, intimate tone that it made her heart race just a tiny bit. He was incredibly serious when he said it too.

"Ah, yeah, well… You made sure of that."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She fiddled with her napkin but forced herself to look him in the eye. "I don't know. When we entered middle school, you became, sort of guarded? Like really focused on everything else, school, track. We barely talked. Of course, there were a lot of things I missed."

He didn't know what to say to that. It was obvious she caught him off guard with her answer. It was extremely honest and she didn't know where it came from. She chalked it up to her exhaustion. Or brain damage from hitting her head on the car window.

"Doesn't mean we can't catch up," she said. "Why are you here in Italy?"

And just like that the easy-going Thad came back.

"Why are _you_ here?"

She groaned. "This is becoming like our discussion at the Colosseo. Fine, I'll go first. This is sort of an educational trip for me. I told you that I'm an Art History major."

He nodded. She decided he didn't need to know the real reason she was here but she was extremely curious about his.

"So, I want to learn more about classical Western art and that requires actually looking at the artwork. Now you go," she insisted, grabbing a breadstick from the basket.

"Nuh-uh, I never said I'd reveal why I'm here once you said your reason. Plus, it's not as interesting. We should order now."

He was definitely avoiding it. He can change the subject all he want but it doesn't mean she'll stop poking around. But for now, she let it go.

"Okay, what's good here?"

"Everything," he replied quickly, glancing at the menu.

"Real helpful," she said in a dry tone that made him grin as he read the menu. "I'm asking what you'd recommend. If there's one thing here that I have to try before I die, what is it?"

"The seafood spaghetti with pomodoro sauce."

"Then I'll have that," she said. His head snapped up, there was a slapping sound when he closed the menu.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to order something like a Risotto?"

She knew what he was implying. Rhonda had been obsessed with calorie counting since they were thirteen. She always went for the low-fat option for everything.

She shrugged. "I'm in Italy. I'll risk the carbs. Also, do they have tiramisu? I'm craving for something sweet."

"Uh, yeah. They do. If that's all, I'll call Alfredo."

He raised up a hand and the man he was talking earlier to proceeded to come over.

"Oh!" she said as she saw an item on the menu. "Let's have bruschetta as well! And wine. I'm thinking white"

At that, Thad smiled. "So you are starving and taking advantage of the drinking age. I'll order a Neapolitan pizza that we can share."

For the first time in a long time, Rhonda wasn't ashamed that she was salivating at the thought of all the food they were going to order. It was going to be a feast. If she overate, she can always run it off later.

When Alfredo reached their table, Thad started ordering in Italian. It irked her that he sounded much sexier speaking the language than in English then she cursed herself for thinking such lewd thoughts. For God's sake, he was only reciting dishes.

 _I'm going mad._

But the language sounds so passionate and full of life that Rhonda thought it suited him. In their younger days, Thaddeus had always been, well, theatrical. Everything he did had to be big. Even if it was just a school prank. It's what set him apart from the others.

After he finished taking down notes, Alfredo filled their wine glasses with water before hurrying off to the kitchen. A sudden realisation hit her after the two had finished their conversation.

"I get it now."

"What do you get?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"You're Italian," she said.

"What? How di–"

It all made sense. Why he was so at ease. Why he never stopped to ask for directions. Why he spoke Italian like a local.

"Geez, you speak the language fluently. You have a driver's license. Is it your mother's side or father's side? I'm guessing mother since Gammelthorpe isn't really an Italian name."

He was stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again.

"I'm astute," she said, tooting her own horn. It felt great to finally catch him off guard. Twice. Back in high school, that was his job, to throw her off balance as much as possible. On good days, she fought back with as much as she could. It was all antagonistic.

"I like to keep the fact that I'm smart hidden," she revealed.

It wasn't something he'd known for years but he still smiled at the revelation.

"So people will leave you alone?" he fished.

"Exactly!" she said, pointing at him in excitement. Finally, someone who gets it.

"Well yeah, no shit. Damn. I wouldn't want to face you in court. And you're right about the mother's side," he finally said.

She smiled. "Is that why you're here? To reconnect with your roots?"

His face grew somber again. "Partly, yes. Why'd you want to know so badly?"

Rhonda didn't know the answer to that too. There was a hesitance in his voice. She shrugged. "I'm just curious. Really. It's not like I'm going to use the information to blackmail you."

He still kept quiet, just drinking his water. She shouldn't press on. Instead, she decided to play with him to cheer him up. There was always another time to find out why he was really here.

She leaned in, conspiratorially.

"Why? Is it something dangerous? Are you part of the mob? Is that why you're so secretive? If you tell me, will you have to kill me? I promise I won't blab. I'm not a snitch," she said in hushed tones.

He glanced around the restaurant before he gripped her hand. It was warm and bigger than hers. "I didn't know how to say this but… yes. The FBI is after me and I needed a place to hide. Now that they've seen me with you, your life may be in danger. Run away with me, Rhonda. It's the only way we can survive now."

There was a moment of silence. They gazed into each other's eyes, holding hands. Then they both burst into loud laughter. Rhonda wiped a tear from her eye and said, "Oh, that was great. I've forgotten how good of an actor you are."

At first, she wasn't sure he'd go along with the joke...

She let out a breath, noticing he'd already released her hand. The place where his skin touched hers tingled from the absence. He was still chuckling, oblivious to what she was feeling.

There's a flutter in her chest.

 _This is stupid. I just haven't had a boyfriend in a long time._

Thankfully, Alfredo came back with their meals. The spaghetti was gorgeous and smelled incredibly fantastic. The bruschetta was laid in the centre and the pizza rested in all its cheesy deliciousness beside it. She grabbed the tomato-rich appetiser and popped it in her mouth.

When the tang of the ripe tomatoes and the sharpness of the basil hit her tongue, she heard herself moan.

"This is so good," she said with her mouth full, years of etiquette class forgotten.

His eyes lit up as he laughed. "You can slow down, the food's not going to run away."

She ignored him and attacked the pasta with the same gusto.

"Or not," he said before digging into his own food.


	6. Swansea

**_Swansea, May 2010_**

The wind had picked up. She clutched her jacket tighter. Not just because of the weather but because the man next to her was slowly killing her. And he didn't even know it.

Her wedding was in less than 48 hours and she was freaking out. He, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. Totally stoic and calm. Helpful and reliable when it came to arranging things for the guests from their childhood.

 _The airplane tickets, the accommodations…_

It was such a drag that even when it came to her wedding, her parents get to pick the location. The Lloyds were Welsh after all. Not that there's anything wrong with Wales. The country was beautiful but she wanted to get married back home. In the end, it had been a compromise. They pick the location and she got the guest list. She wasn't going to let them invite all of their snooty friends before her real ones.

She and Thaddeus sat on a navy blue and white striped blanket by the endless coast. In the distance, the gentle waves lapped at the sand. It was a sombre day. The sky was cast with deep blue shadows with streaks of muted grey swept across. It had turned the water almost black and murky. It suited her dark mood.

"Thanks for helping out with this whole thing. It's been crazy. I couldn't have done it without you," she said. It had been lame and she didn't expect a response so she wasn't disappointed when he merely nodded.

"When do you have to be back in Chicago?" she prodded. She needed him to speak. Or she would scream. Just scream at the sea until she goes mad.

"By Wednesday. I've missed quite a bit of work."

And she felt incredibly guilty about that but having him here… His presence soothed her. It made her not worry so much. He agreed with her on the candles, and the flowers, he knew good wine and he had approved the menu. She trusted him with that and Edward hadn't been bothered by it. He had been glad. He said Thaddeus was a lifesaver. She agreed.

So what if she sometimes pretended that he was helping her plan _their_ wedding. So what if she sometimes daydreamed that he was the groom?

That's normal, right? Just cold feet and whatnot.

"I'm scared," she revealed.

There was a beat before he snorted.

"That's normal. You're going to spend the rest of your life with him. It's normal to have doubts."

Yeah, but she knew it wasn't normal to wish for someone else to take her soon-to-be husband's place. It wasn't normal to spend so much time with that man either. But they were friends now. Her and Thaddeus. Can't a man and a woman just be friends? It's the 21st century.

Her thoughts were meandering too much. Too many streams of consciousness.

 _Just tell him. Just tell him._ _Just tell him._

"Do you think– Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" she asked.

He sighed. In the distance, lightning flashed above the sea in a crackle of white. She turned to faced him and realised he looked older than his years. This wedding was taking a toll on him and it wasn't even his. _Add that to the guilt pile, Rhonda..._

"I don't know. Do you? I can't really answer that, Rhonda. It's not my place."

"Right."

They were quiet again.

"Look, do you love him?" he asked, sounding more tired than he looked.

She thought about it. Edward could be sweet. They could discuss art and politics. He was raised in the same circles as she and he came with a very hefty inheritance. Her parents were incredibly proud.

There was also the matter of her wealth being snatched away if she didn't agree to this.

So she said, "Yes." Before immediately wishing she could take it back.

He released a breath. "So go for it. I've never known you to be scared of anything when you're sure. You always had your eye on the prize."

She didn't know if there was a double meaning behind his words. She never told him of the circumstances of her engagement and chalked it up to coincidence that he said that.

Unbeknownst to him, his response, cemented her fate. If he had fought for her that day, showed a smidgen of feeling for her, she would have thrown the money back at her parents and said hasta la vista to Edward before riding off into the sunset. But Thaddeus didn't do anything. Instead, he sat quietly beside her and watched the sun descend.

It broke her heart but she wasn't going to cry in front of him and she wasn't going to beg. They were friends. Maybe he never liked her as much as she thought.

Or maybe it was _her_ turn to take initiative.

"Curly, I lov–"

He shot up, unwise to what she was about to say. "It's getting late. We should head back. Your fiancé would be wondering where you are."

She felt the grains of sand hit her arm while he patted his jeans. Each tiny fleck pounded the numbness that was eating away at her. She swallowed her tears and nodded. She didn't look at him but accepted the hand he offered to pull her up. In the horizon, the sun had nearly set.

Yes, she thought as she walked behind her and wiped her tears silently, she would get married. And it will be wonderful.


	7. Rome III

**_Rome, September 2005_**

Lunch had gone incredibly well. Not just the food but _him_ too. They fell back into the rhythm of their youth. The back and forth. It was fun. She didn't know she'd miss it. Intellectually, he matched her and she hadn't been bored for a second.

She yawned.

She wasn't bored.

"You're getting very sleepy," he said slowly, like a hypnotist.

"Shut up. But yeah, I am, can we take a taxi back?"

He _tsked._ She gasped in a mocking fashion. He only frowned.

"It's a five minute walk, Rhonda. We're not taking a taxi. Our hotel is literally around the corner."

"I might just sleep on the sidewalk."

"I promise not to let that happen."

She waited for the bill to come but noticed that he was already putting on his jacket.

"Wait, aren't we going to pay?" she asked, grabbing her purse.

He looked pained. "Can I tell you a secret? I left my wallet at the hotel. We're gonna have to make a run for it."

"Thaddeus!" she hissed.

He laughed. "Relax, I paid when you went to the bathroom."

She pouted. She wanted it to be her treat so that they could be even. He drove her back to her hotel (saved her from getting lost, really) and she pays for lunch. A done deal. This just means she owe him more now.

"You can get the bill next time," he said smoothly.

"Next time, I'm not even going to think of going to the toilet. You're such a hustler."

"You love it."

"Keep telling yourself that," she muttered. The corners of her mouth itching to be pulled up into a smile but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

He offered her elbow to him. This time, she took it.

"Come on, I'll take you back to the hotel. Make sure you don't nap in the streets of Rome."

"My hero," she deadpanned.

Rhonda tried to stick his loud laughter and the feel of his arm to memory.

…

She slept for eighteen hours. It had been three in the afternoon when they got back. At the hotel lobby, she removed her heels and walked barefoot. There were a couple of strange looks from the other guests. Something Thaddeus found hilarious because it seemed so uncivilised for an heiress to do that but she didn't care. Her feet hurt and her eyes were droopy. She muttered a grouchy goodbye to him as they reached her floor and didn't bother to listen to his reply.

As much as she wanted to jump into bed, she had to shower first. After she cleaned up though, she made short work of putting on her clothes and combing her hair. She didn't bother with a hairdryer. Instead, she snuggled under the cold comforter and went out very quickly.

The next day, a rude knock woke her up.

"Breakfast will be over in an hour!" a voice boomed from the other side.

"Go away," she muttered into her pillow.

He continued to press the door bell.

"Argh!" she screamed. "I'm coming!"

She pulled off the lovely covers and followed the carpet trail to the door. It didn't occur to her she was only in her extremely short pink satin shorts and white camisole top until she answered the door. After he stared at her legs then her chest. Another important thing she forgot was that she slept without a bra. Her face heat up.

When he looked back up at her face, he had a smile on. "Good morning!"

"Perv," she muttered but stepped aside to let him in. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to put on a bra and join me for breakfast," he quipped.

"Don't be an idiot. It's too early for that," she said. She checked the phone by her bedside. 9:13 in the morning. Perfect.

"I'm just going to wait here to until you get dressed."

He sat on her bed as if he belonged there.

She scowled at him, both hands on her hips. "Did I invite you here yesterday? I don't recall having a conversation about," she gestured to the whole room, "all of this."

"You were going to miss a free breakfast," he said, grabbing her remote and flipping through the channels on tv.

"In case you missed the memo, I'm rich. I can buy my own breakfast."

He rolled his eyes. "Do tell us more about your vast wealth, Miss Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd."

When she yelled and threw her hands up in surrender, he knew he'd won.

"I'll wait here," he chirped.

"You do that," she growled before grabbing clothes from her suitcase and slamming the door of the toilet. She could hear his laugh once she was inside.

…

It had been a blessing in disguise.

She knew that if she didn't come down to breakfast with him they had to hunt down a café outside of the hotel and she simply didn't have the energy for it. Not yet. It was such a shame because it was a gorgeous day. Their table, which was situated near the glass windows, was lit up by the early morning Italian sun.

She speared her chunks of fruit and stared at it. The cantaloupe and melon were lovely to gaze at with their pastel colours.

"I'm sooooo tired. Is this normal?"

Rhonda hated the whine in her voice but it can't be helped.

"The jet lag? Yeah, you'll get over it in a few days, sugar."

"Don't call me sugar," she said, reaching for her white coffee cup. Rhonda was not ready for that kind of endearment.

He snickered. "No, I mean sugar? Do you want some? You're drinking extremely bitter coffee right now. If I wanted to give you a pet name, it would be something more unique."

She noticed the sugar canister in his hand and felt like a dumbass. She grabbed it and poured some in her cup. "Thanks, _pumpkin_ ," she replied. It'll be a great sport to play. She was in a sparring mood. He always put her in such a mood. They've always treated such conversations as games. A chance to better each other.

"Pumpkin? I was thinking more on the lines of smoochy bear or cuppycakes."

"Banana muffin or honey bunch is where it's at."

"Booboo," he said, not even glancing up from his newspaper. Of course, he could read Italian too. What an asshole.

"Kitten whiskers," she snapped back without missing a beat.

"Lollipop."

"Babydoll,"

"Gumdrop," he looked up.

"Cuddle bunch," she fired back, placing her fists on the table.

"Cuddle bunch? Aren't you just my wittle cutie patootie?" he said, making a face that was meant for babies.

The last one made her laugh but she wasn't quitting. "Aw, stop it, baby cakes."

He made a swipe for another pancake on their shared platter and doused it with a ton of maple syrup.

"Angel bun, you're so sweet you might get diabetes," she said in a warning tone.

He put a hand on his heart. "Your concern for me is touching, baby butt."

"Baby butt? Now you're just making shit up," she said, buttering a scone. She had completely given up on the fruit since she was beginning to feel quite hungry.

"Weren't they all made up?" he asked, stuffing a bit of pancake in his mouth.

"Nah, I've actually heard couples call each other some of those names before.

"That's disgusting," he said, taking another maple syrup-drenched bite of his pancake.

"Says the guy eating pure sugar. But hey, who are we to judge?"

He nodded. "Of course. You're right, horse face."

She patted his arm, "I always am, jiggle butt."

…

Rhonda had changed. Of course, she could still be a pain in the ass and was still slightly conceited but there was something different about her. Maybe it was the city that was making her feel freer or it was the year in college.

There was an air of independence and certainty about her. As if she didn't need anyone's approval anymore. It was such a stark contrast to what she was in high school. A social chameleon who wanted to be loved by everyone. But this, this woman who was laughing so loudly others were looking, who was fighting him with her words with such sass was the Rhonda that he knew laid inside. The way she made him laugh aroused the shit out of him. It scared him too.

Scared how, in a only a short time, he'd grown to love her company so much that he felt a little empty at the end of the day, when he had to spend his night alone in his hotel room. It had been three days since he came crashing into her life and from then on, since the lunch on the first day, they had spent all their meals together.

Not that they were together all the time. She would sneak off to art museums and then call him to meet for gelato. He would hang out at the restaurant and talk to Alfredo about things that he needed to settle. That was why he was in Italy anyway. To work out issues. To take a breather.

To deal with grief.

He didn't want to reveal that to her. She kept poking around in his business but he's terrified one day he might blab it all out. Then, how would she look at him? With pity? He didn't want that. So he distracted her and took her to cafés. The other night they went to the opera and decided afterwards that although they liked it, they didn't exactly get it and that was alright.

In the day, they lounged by the pool. Her in her red bikini, red was her colour, and him in his navy trunks. He was sitting by the edge, his legs splashing in the water. She was lying down on a recliner, sunglasses perched on her cute nose, a magazine at hand. Rhonda had never been busty, he never minded, but she did have killer legs.

He looked away to stop his disgusting thoughts. They were finally friends. Friends don't ogle each other.

Instead, he focused on the water droplets that clung to the side of her iced drink. It was an incredibly hot day. He was beginning to get a little thirsty.

 _Not just for drinks._

He groaned. She pulled her glasses down from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, what?" she hollered from where she sat.

"Nothing," he said glumly. He kicked up more water to see how big the ripples could get.

He heard her get up from her chair. A pair of legs appeared beside his, dipping into the pool.

"I know you're bored," she sing-songed.

"Really? Am I that transparent?" he said in a Valley girl accent.

She sighed. "We have to go somewhere today. You're dying in this hotel."

"We've been going out everyday. I'm starting to run out of money."

Rhonda waved a hand. "Bullshit. You're extremely stingy. I have been paying for half of everything. Not that I'm complaining. I think you're just trying to get rid of me."

"Yes. Please go away," he made a shooing motion. "You know, I'm starting to think I'm just a replacement tour guide. I feel a bit unappreciated."

She laughed. "What a baby. And of course you are. My little tour guide. You have to take me to see everything or else I'm not getting my money's worth out of Rome."

"Now who's stingy? Penny pinching heiress. Hire another tour guide. I quit."

She wrapped an arm around him. _Oh boy._ He gulped.

"On what basis?" she whispered in his ear.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood in attention.

"Conflict of interest," he shot back.

"Conflict of bullshit," she retorted.

He gave her his best threatening glare. She only smirked. "Am I going to get paid if I take you around?"

"Name your price. And your rate. By the day or by the hour?" she said, removing her arm. He immediately missed it but he felt relieved. She still hold such sway over him. Him and his messed up childhood obsessions.

"By the hour. Ten euros."

"Deal."

He couldn't tell if she was serious. Then, he noticed her smile. "You're not really going to pay me, right?"

"And you're not really going to charge me, right?"

"A man could hope, Rhonda. A man could hope to earn 80 euros a day just by tagging an adolescent along." He made a grand gesture with his arms as though he was dramatically upset at the injustice.

She smacked his shoulder. "Hey! Look who's talking. Adolescent my ass. I'm a grown woman."

He did look at her, start seeing her for what she actually was. She wasn't a girl anymore. She's right. She was all woman with her humble and perky breasts and protruding hips. Her milky skin that he itched to caress and the pert bottom he had been quietly observing rising from the pool just yesterday. He felt ambushed by her attractiveness. His nose filled with her fruity scent. His throat clogged with lust.

"Yeah, you are," he said huskily.

Her eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

He had shocked her with his reply. _Good._

So it was only fitting that he should have expected a face full of water after she pushed him into the pool.

…

He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her. It shot a shocking dose of desire deep in her belly. She had been so taken aback she did the only thing she could think of in a moment of pure panic.

She pushed him. Hard. Into the pool. Well, she had to do something physical to him the alternative would have made matters extremely awkward. Furthermore, she didn't want to spend anymore time thinking about what would happen if their lips touched.

He spent a long time under the surface, just enough to make her worried, before coming up with a wide grin on his face. His dark hair wet and matted to his forehead. It had been longer than when they were in school and the strands framed his eyes seductively. Their brown orbs twinkled from the sunlight refracted by the pool water.

 _Seductively?_

What was going on? Why was she feeling this way? It's so bizarre.

"Can I get that 80 euros now? Cash would be fine," he said like what just happened only existed in her imagination. She didn't imagine that tension, did she?

If she didn't push him, she was so sure she would have grabbed his face and kissed him. Show him how grown up she was.

 _No. No. Stop thinking about that._

It seemed so unreal. This is Curly. Her manic stalker from childhood. But as she gave a glance at the smiling, handsome, young man in the pool, with a defined torso half-submerged in the water she thought, _"So what?"_

It was Curly but he was all grown up. Just like her.

She was so spooked she couldn't come up with a witty reply.

"Is ending up in a pool an occupational hazard for all your tour guides?" he asked.

"Only the mouthy and demanding ones," she said, trying to calm herself down. He swam towards her and her panic returned.

He gave her an odd look. "Will you please relax? I just need help getting out of the pool."

"You could just use the ladder," she pointed it out.

"It's on the other side of the pool."

She sighed and stood up. He reached out his hands, she grabbed them. She was going to pull but as soon as they made contact, she felt a hard tug and down she went.

 _Conniving son of a bitch!_

She let out a pathetic yell as she dove in. "Ahhh!"

Her sunglasses flew. There was a large splash. Water ended up in her mouth. As soon as Rhonda sank in the surprisingly cold water, she became disoriented while her eyes adjusted to the chlorine. It burned. Suddenly though, his strong grip pulled her back to the surface.

"You bastard!" she screamed at him as soon as she broke through. She took huge gulps of air, kicking violently to keep herself afloat.

He was laughing at her. She snatched her hands back and scanned the area. They were the only two people in the pool. The young family splashing around earlier had left. Where the hell was the lifeguard? Why wasn't he around?

"I'm going to kill you," she growled. "I swear, Thaddeus. You're a fucking dead man."

He laughed some more but quickly swam away.

"Do you still want to go out now?" he called out.

She did her best to splash his eyes.


	8. New York

**_New York, July 2012_**

She was bored out of her damned mind. In her hand, a fifth glass of champagne. To be honest, all these social events were turning her into an alcoholic. Eddy had gone God knows where and once again, she was left to her own devices. Tonight is a social event for his business partners and they had brought their wives. The problem was she couldn't penetrate their already tight-knit group. They were all the same type, high maintenance with more money than sense. There was no way she could have a decent conversation with them.

Rhonda was amusing herself with the way the fizzy bubbles popped when someone sat beside her. She turned away, hoping to continue being undisturbed.

Having the party on a roof top was stupid. The wind made it too cold for her to actually enjoy the view of the city. Maybe that's on her, since she didn't have the forethought to bring a shawl or a jacket. Whatever. She'd blame it on the organiser. It's their job to think of these things.

She kept an eye out for her husband. It would take a miracle to spot him again in this sea of rich, entitled snobs. Her kin.

Eddy had been pretty absent lately. She'd be lying to herself if she didn't say that married life had left her disillusioned. With her husband often away, it had become absolutely boring. And when he was home, he's always too tired to deal with her. And she tried. So goddamned much but she tried. She bought lingerie. She went for couples therapy. She, not they, since he's always away on business.

She learned to cook for Pete's sake. In the end, she still didn't manage to capture his love. Just like her parents' love. It remained elusive and rarely spotted, like an endangered animal. Her mother told her it would take time. Her husband would warm up to her.

It's been two years since they got married. He shouldn't have just warmed up to her by now, he should be scorching. Did she need to buy an oven? Shove him in? Would that warm him up? She let out a giggle and then a tiny burp.

 _Damn champagne..._

The thought of pushing her husband into a hot oven gave her too much satisfaction. The mental image was ridiculous since he was quite a large man. She'd have to buy a big oven like the one the witch used in Hansel and Gretel.

The champagne is definitely getting to her.

Or the neglect. She frowned. It could definitely be either of those things.

A couple, a few feet away from her, who were having a quiet discussion before was now having a full blown argument. She recognised the man to be Richard Vandenberg, owner of various sports teams based in the East coast. Their bickering was getting louder and she saw one a staff approaching them.

It was time to call it a night.

She didn't care if she couldn't find Eddy. She'll just take a cab and ask their driver to take care of him. She downed the last of her champagne and pulled a fifty out of her purse to tip the bartender. Since it was a party, it was open bar, the drinks had been paid for by the host but it made her feel good to do things like that.

"Do you come to these things often?" a voice beside her asked.

Great, just what she needed. A leery billionaire hitting on her.

"Why don't you just fu–"

"Off?" Thaddeus Gammelthorpe finished for her. "I'll do that soon."

He was smiling at her. He looked dapper, wearing a black tuxedo. Black-rimmed glasses framed his eyes and his hair was slicked-back. He was sitting by the bar next to her and she hadn't noticed. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She hasn't seen him since her wedding. It's been two years they haven't spoken.

 _Two years…_

His eyes were twinkling with the same mischief that got him into a heap ton of trouble in their youth. She noticed the unfinished scotch in his hand.

"Hi," he said, standing up.

"Hey," she muttered before pressing her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around him. "It's so nice to see you."

He laughed. The deep rumble made his chest vibrate. He wrapped his arms around her too.

"It's good to see you too," he said atop her head, "It's been a while."

She breathed in his scent before letting go.

He beamed at her.

With Thaddeus, she never had to pretend but tonight she forced a big smile on her face. He couldn't see her like this, close to a nervous breakdown.

"So, New York? I didn't know you live here now," she said, asking the bartender for a glass of water. She needed to sober up. It won't do her any good revealing incriminating details about her life particularly when she was in a very sharing mood.

When the bartender gave her the glass, she gulped the water down in one go. She saw Thad's eyes widen.

"Just really thirsty."

"Uh huh," he said.

There was a pause.

She continued to smile at him.

"Well, I don't really live here in New York. I'm still based in Chicago. I was only here for a meeting. Then one of my clients invited me to go to this party."

"I see," she said coolly.

There was silence again.

"List–"

"I have to–"

They both laughed.

"You go first," he said.

"Uh..." _Just run. Leave. Take one last look at him and leave._ "...did you hear the Vandenbergs fighting in the corner?"

He appeared puzzled. "Yeah. Wait a second, are you gossiping with me?"

"Of course. It's me. What do you expect? Just fly with it. What do you think they were fighting about? I couldn't make out the words."

"First of all, I expected more. Second, they were arguing about the amount of alcohol she's consumed and then it was a very rapid shift to his inability in bed."

"Whoa," she said. "That's, well, I thought he'd be an animal in the sack. Being an ex-athlete and all."

"You'd think but I'm not making this up." Judging from his grin, he was. He probably couldn't make anything out either. "What are you up to now?"

"I actually have to go. Home, I mean."

Rhonda rubbed her elbow. A nervous mannerism she'd cultivated since she was a child.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was planning to do that before… before you showed up. But hey, if you're still going to be in town for a while maybe we can meet for lunch to catch up?"

 _Please say no._

She watched his handsome face twist in disappointment.

"I can't. I have a flight to catch tomorrow. Then it's off to Sweden for two months."

She almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's too bad. If you get back here, stateside, give me a ring," she pretended to glance around as though she's looking for someone, "I don't know where Eddy is, probably with his buddies, but I gotta get home. Early morning tomorrow, like you. It's good to see you again, Thad. Bye."

She gave a nervous chuckle before clutching her purse and making a run for it.

 _Quick, Rhonda, quick! Use your long legs... I should be doing more cardio._

Rhonda was five yards from the exit when a hand grasped her arm. "Hey, wait up."

 _He did run track in high school._

"Yes?" she turned to him with a smile plastered on her face.

"I can send you home. My car's just downstairs," he suggested.

"There's really no need," she pushed.

"I insist. Come on, Rhonda. It'll put me at ease knowing that you got home safe."

And through that, she was quickly transported back to Rome. The moment when they met at the Colosseo. The event that set things into motion. How they indeed up here, in this moment, with a thick barrier between them. It was all her fault. If she had just had done something, said something, maybe she wouldn't be trapped in a horrible marriage with a man who didn't love her. So instead of saying no like her brain was telling her she said, "Okay, just show me the way."

He offered his arm and she wrapped hers around it, trying to appear as though her heart wasn't hammering in her chest or how happy she was to finally see him again. There was that scent too. His smell. Sharp and citrusy. The one that lingered in her dreams and stuck around as she awakens.

She stared up at his profile, he wasn't looking at her. He was giving his full attention to business associates that they came across, tossing a casual greeting here and there. The confidence he exuded as a teenager was now more subdued. It wasn't cocky or forced, he was just at ease. Like he had no one to impress. The complete opposite of her.

She wondered if that's why she was so drawn to him. Thaddeus never cared what anyone thought of him. He just revelled in the madness. She, on the other hand, cared far too much. To be in the presence of somebody who didn't have to please the world was refreshing. She yearned to be more like him. To take risks and be bold and be free and…

"Rhonda?"

"Huh?"

He laughed and gave her arm a squeeze. They were already in the elevator.

"You kind of spaced out. Are you alright?"

She let out a false, anxious laugh. "Yeah, just had too much champagne."

His gaze suggested that he didn't believe her but he wasn't going to press the issue further. Rhonda faced forward only to be confronted with their reflection on the mirrored doors. For a brief second, she admired the view. They looked like…

 _A young couple out for the night._

Her arm was still around his. It was a sign of affection that was far too personal now that they're in an enclosed space. Through the mirror, their eyes met. She wanted to know what he was thinking but his face was smooth, devoid of a tell. Too quickly, they reached the carpark. Their image torn apart as the doors opened. She released his arm.

"So, what does a young successful businessman drive?" she asked in a playful manner. They both stepped out into the dark parking deck.

"You'll see. All the ladies go crazy for my ride," he said, waggling his brows. A silly giggle of a high school girl escaped her. It was almost deplorable how easily he brings out this side of her.

"Still no Vespa?" she asked.

"Nope. I'm sorry to disappoint but prepared to be amazed. Panties have dropped at the sight of my car. I just pull up next to chicks, roll down my windows, and give them a smile. Afterwards, they're all over me."

"Trying to fend you off."

"Hmph, you're just jealous."

It was a short walk before he stopped in front of an electric blue Volkswagen beetle. Rhonda let out a huge laugh. It was so him. He made a big show of unlocking the car with the keyless entry system. The tiny beeps made her laugh even harder.

"Wow, I think I just orgasmed," she stated.

"Told you. Get in and stop staring at it before you get pregnant."

"You wish."

"Don't get too excited. It's a rental."

"Uh, that makes it worse. You could have literally chosen anything else."

"I like the way my clients look at me as I pull up in this sick ride. It's as if they couldn't fathom why a grown man managing their accounts was driving a beetle."

He settled into the driver's seat.

"I think I drove one of these in high school," she said as she got in the front. "It's so perfect for an adolescent girl figuring out that difficult phase between being a girl and being a woman."

He put the key into the ignition and started the engine. "Stop being cute. I'll have you know that this is a very manly car. Strong. Stable. Dependable. All the qualities a woman want in her man."

"Instead of sexy, cool, and young? I think you're talking about what a woman wants in a lock."

"That's what girls want, not a woman. A girl would want a Ferrari, a woman would want a Hyundai or in my case, a beetle," he teased.

"Then call me a little a girl because I'd take the Ferrari any day," she said, putting on her seat belt.

"Thought so. So immature. All buckled up?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm all good."

Slowly, he pulled out of the slot.

She proceeded to tell him where she lived and he keyed it in on the GPS.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. There was a small smile on her lips as they sat in the dark cocoon of the beetle. In this world, she can imagine that he was bringing them home from a dinner party with friends. Afterwards, they'd arrive at their apartment, talk about their day before snuggling up in bed and falling asleep in a mess of tangled limbs.

But he was merely driving her home. The thought of their ride being only a matter of minutes slowly seeped into her brain. After they reach her house, she'd have to say goodbye and never see him again until the next reunion or big wig party. It could take years. She could be more miserable than she already was.

And then out of the blue, he asked, "Do you want to get ice cream?"

"Huh? Sorry?"

"Ice cream. You know, the dessert that's made out of dairy," he clarified with a smirk.

"Don't be an asshole."

"It's too late for me," he quipped.

She kept quiet.

 _No, you were never an asshole. I was._

"Rhonda?"

"Yeah?"

They stopped at a red light. If she wasn't wrong, they were already at Madison Avenue. About fifteen minutes away from her and Eddy's place on 93rd street.

She heard him sigh. "Are you really okay? If there's anything, you know you can tell me, right?"

 _Like how I regret marrying my husband? Or how I wished I run away with you instead but it didn't seem like you loved me so I gave up and didn't tell you? And now I'm depressed and on some days slightly suicidal. Most nights I think about you and where you are. Yeah, l could definitely tell you anything. It would go over very well if I say all those things._

"We _should_ get ice cream. I was just thinking what flavour to get."

The car started moving again. For the first time tonight, he didn't seem satisfied with her answer. There was a hard set to his jaw and the corners of his mouth were tight.

"You know that I'm not stupid, Rhonda. There's obviously something that's bugging you. You were tipsy at the Eisenmann party and alone. What's going on?"

His response kicked her into a defensive mood and lit a fury in her gut.

"You think just because you're driving me home you get to pry into my private affairs?"

"That's not wh–"

She wasn't finished. "I haven't seen you in two years, _Thaddeus._ So excuse me if I don't want to share all the intimate details of my life and my, what would probably seem to you, first world problems. I don't know if you've noticed but we're not exactly close anymore."

The amount of venom in her voice shocked her.

There was another red light. He slammed both his hands onto the steering wheel. "You made damn sure of that. Didn't you, sweetheart?"

She was livid but he had a point. Like he always did. He was so good at that, making sense, reminding her of what actually happened, that it was her who pushed him away.

 _Why'd you never answer any of my calls, Rhonda?_

 _Rhonda, I don't know if you're still reading any of these but please get back to me._

 _I get the message. I'm not going to contact you anymore. I'm not going to bother. You and Eddy have a very happy life. All the best._

She tried to stop the tears but they burst out of her. Sudden, angry sobs wracked her body. She watched as his eyes widened in shock. She couldn't bear looking at him so she retreated into her hands.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, Rhonda. I shouldn't have said anything." he said. "I'm really sorry. I swear sometimes I don't realise how big of an idiot I am."

His voice sounded softer and softer to her as she wallowed deeper in her despair. The apology made her feel worse because he really didn't do anything wrong. He'd only postpone the inevitable. The mess that she became in the dead of the night when all the distractions were gone and she is confronted with the truth.

That she is deeply unhappy.

And nothing she could do would change that.

A hand soothed her back as she let out her frustration into her palms, through her tears. It took a while for her to recover but when she did, grabbing some of the tissue from his dashboard, she put on a brave face. The one she had been trained to wear in times of crisis.

 _Lloyds never lose. Lloyds never show weakness._

With a raspy croak, she said, "I'm fine now. You can take me home. I don't think I'm in the mood for ice cream anymore."

He nodded. He got the message from her steely tone. It was some time before either of them spoke again. Her eyes were on his hands. She knew he was about to say something because his grip on the wheel tightened.

"About tonight, I'm truly sorry–"

"Don't apologise," she cut him off. "You're right. There is something wrong."

She looked straight ahead, before turning completely to her right to shut him off. He was observing her. She could see his reflection on the glass window.

"But it's none of your business and I will take care of it. I appreciate your concern."

She might as well have said "Thank you, come again." It was numb and impersonal but she was too tired to care. The outburst had exhausted her.

The car weaved through the sharp corners of the Upper East Side. Each light twinkling at her through the side view mirror.

"In 50 metres, turn left," the seductive voice of the GPS cut through the silence.

They were already in her neighbourhood which was fantastic because even if she wanted to stay in the vehicle earlier she couldn't wait to jump out now. Away from his pity, his concern, and from those fucking eyes that saw right through her.

"We're near. Thank you for dropping me off."

Her voice sounded so far away to her ears. It as if she's sinking underneath the surface.

"No problem," he replied in a tone so gentle like she might break if he spoke any louder.

The beetle stopped in front of a red brick building that she and Eddy had bought then renovated when they were only engaged. They had tenants on the lower floors but the top two storeys were theirs. It had been decorated by one of New York's top interior designers. It was modern and eclectic with a focus on minimalist pieces. It was a beautiful apartment, a showpiece, it just wasn't a home. It was her least favourite out of their six properties.

In the background, the engine hummed. Rhonda noticed his hands still gripped the wheel. She had made him upset. She decided there is no way she could leave on such a heavy note. Thus, with her brave face on, she apologised.

"Look, I'm sorry for being such a downer tonight. The truth is, Eddy and I are working through some things. Things that will take too long to explain in just a twenty minute car ride. I want you to know that I am incredibly grateful that you care. You care enough about me to ask, even after all these years. Not a lot of people do. So, thank you. But I'm a big girl now. If I'm in trouble, I can't wait for you to save me, Thaddeus. I have to save myself."

He let out a heavy sigh but shot her a smile. She knew that they were alright. Not the best shape but alright.

"Just to be clear, I can still come to your rescue from time to time, right?" his deep voice echoed in the car.

She focused on the way the light hit his lashes and the way his eyes crinkled. She will miss this man. Once again. The way he looked in a suit. How his bowtie was slightly askew.

"Of course. You're a genius at that."

Her reply earned her a smug smirk.

"But I fight my own battles. If I need your help, I'll say so."

She was unbuckling her seatbelt when she heard him say, "God, I miss you."

Her head whipped up on instinct and their gazes met. Her lips parted to release a breath.

"I'll try not to be a stranger then. Is your number still the same?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's the same."

"Then I'll call you," she placed a hand on the handle. "Good night, Thaddeus."

"Good night, Rhonda."

She doesn't leave. She doesn't know why she doesn't just leave. What is she waiting for? They're still gazing at each other, faces closer than they were moments ago.

Reality hits her. No, she couldn't do this. It's too late for this.

She pulls at the handle and the car door springs out. As fast as she could, she hopped out of his tiny car and walked to her front door without sprinting. To make the goodbye seem casual, she turned back and gave him a jaunty little wave. He responded with a two finger salute.

He didn't drive off until she was inside her unit.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who left a review. You guys have been incredibly supportive and sweet. It definitely motivates me to work harder on this story and see it to its completion. – Grand Ole Dutchess (The misspelling of Duchess is on purpose because the other username is taken. Yup.)


	9. Swansea II

**_Swansea, May 2010_**

"Introducing for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Smith!"

A loud applause followed as Eddy pulled his wife to the middle of the dance floor. She gave a demure laugh when a soft waltz version of _Fly Me to the Moon_ started playing. The guests sipped fizzy golden champagne and munched on hor d'oeuvres while they watched the couple float effortlessly across the dance hall. They oohed and aahed as the man twirled his partner, her skirt swaying with her. She wasn't just beautiful, with the biggest smile one's ever seen on her, she was transcendent. It's as if that was the night in which her image should be immortalised, because in that moment, she was perfection.

Her long, gorgeous dark hair had been swept up and twisted into a pale rose crown that adorned her head. The dress was extravagant, so richly detailed with delicate, meticulous beading for the corset before bleeding into heavy satin stitched like the feathers of a peacock for the skirt. It trailed behind her gracefully as she danced.

In a dark corner, covered by various guests, a man with jet-black hair kept his eyes on the couple as he stuffed as many mini lamb burgers as he could in his mouth.

 _Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight…_

The click clack of high heels against the wooden boards alerted him of the arrival of another person. A blonde woman wearing a long, ice blue, chiffon bridesmaid's dress sidled up next to him. He ignored her and continued feeding himself.

"You're miserable," she said.

"That's an understatement," he snapped back, taking a break from the burgers to drink more of his Moët. He sighed afterwards and he felt her place a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let it show," she whispered. "This day is about her."

He laughed bitterly. "You don't think I know that?"

Thaddeus finally faced Helga.

"Why are you saying all of this to me? I know."

Another sip of Moët.

"I know my place. Just go back to your fiancé and enjoy the night. Let me enjoy the free food from the menu _I_ designed and drink all the alcohol from the wine list _I_ created. It's one thing these expensive weddings are good for."

The touch on his shoulder became a grip.

"Yes. You are aware. It doesn't change the fact that you look like you'd murder her husband in a heartbeat," she said, her tone as resigned as he's ever heard it. "Come, join Arnold and me. We'll find someone to dance with you."

He was silent for quite a while. She just stood by him. The band was now playing Stevie Wonder's _For Once in My Life_ and other couples have joined in. Rhonda's parents were doing some sort of shimmy. It made him smile.

"So, what do you say?" she said. "Joining us?"

The crowd had started to sing along.

He looked around at the gorgeous ballroom. There were sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The room was a lit with the soft glow of hundreds of fairy lights nestled beautifully between sheer white cloth. The floral arrangement was tasteful with pastel carnations and bright yellow roses. He would know. It was how he imagined his wedding would be. Ironically, he had made most of these choices with Rhonda.

"I have to let it go, don't I?" Thaddeus asked, his voice cracked at the word go. It wasn't really a question, more of a statement of fact. It was the hesitation that was immensely painful.

In the background, the singer crooned " _For once in my life I won't let sorrow hurt me, not like it's hurt me before."_

His words echoed in Thaddeus' head.

She observed his profile. It broke Helga's heart to see her friend like this. She wrapped an arm around him and uttered, "Yes, sweetheart. I'm afraid this time you have to. It might sound crass or clichéd right now but there are other women out there… You might not feel the same passion for them but give them a chance, and of course, give it time. You'll see. It'll get better."

Her tone was so opposite of what people expected from Helga, in that moment she was maternal, nurturing, kind. Qualities that only her close friends knew she had.

He didn't give a reply. It was heart-wrenching watching a childhood friend completely defeated. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes were on the floor. He didn't cry but she could tell that if people weren't around, he would have. So she did what Phoebe would do if Helga was upset, she grasped his hand and pulled him to the source of the music.

"I'm not in the mood, Helga," he whispered.

"All the more reason to," she said.

When she had successfully pulled him to the dance floor, she hugged him and swayed him to the music, to let him know the she was there for him.

By the middle of the night, Helga had ended up dancing a tango with Arnold and Thaddeus had twirled three flower girls, all aged between five to eight, mostly Rhonda's cousins and nieces, around the dance floor. It lifted his spirits a little. He had to force a smile for them and bow like a royal before dancing with them. They all called him prince and he received thanks from the children's parents, grateful for the break, using the time to dance with each other.

He was dancing with a precocious little girl named Ashley when his depression reared its ugly head again.

"Where's your partner, prince?" she asked as her tiny hands grasped his.

"Uh, what do you mean?" he said. He twirled her again. Her adorable tiny feet fought to catch up.

She paused, trying to phrase the right words in her young mind. She gazed up at him with her bright blue eyes. "I mean, every adult is dancing with an adult. You've only danced with us. Where's your princess?"

He gulped. It would be a low point in his life if he started crying in front of this little girl.

 _She's in the corner of my eye, dancing with another man._

"Why should I dance with anyone else? When you're more fun than any princess," he said, lifting her up and then spinning her. Her laughter soothed his wounded soul. Ashley threw her hands up in the air and squealed.

She was still giggling when he placed her down, her tiny tiara was now askew atop her red curls. "My mother said never to trust anyone who flatters you too much."

He smiled, for real this time. "Your mother is a very smart woman."

Ashley was looking at someone behind him. She excitedly shrieked, "Aunt Rhonda!" The little girl burst into a run. As soon as she reached her aunt, she wrapped her short arms around her aunt's waist. The bride smiled before bending down to carry the child.

He could only watch as she made her way towards him with Ashley on her hip.

"You look like a princess, Aunt Rhonda," Ashley whispered in a voice that was loud enough for him to hear. He silently agreed.

"Thank you, dear," Rhonda said before glancing up at him. It was the first time that night that they had looked at each other. She was radiating pure happiness. It choked him.

"Who have you been dancing with?"

"Prince Thaddeus!" Ashley cried happily.

Rhonda laughed. "Well, well, well… You wouldn't mind if Aunt Rhonda steals Prince Thaddeus for one dance, would you?"

The little girl shook her head. "I'm thirsty anyway."

Her aunt laughed once again. "You little tyke. Go and find your mom." She landed a kiss on the girl's cheek before setting her down. The little tyke ran towards her mother, a tall redhead, who flashed Rhonda the finger discreetly.

The bride stuck her tongue out at her cousin.

"Classy," he finally said, finding his voice.

"As always. Besides, Lana will forgive me," she said.

Now that she was in front of him, the effect of her beauty was more potent. He focused on his breathing and hid his shaking hands behind his back.

"So, you've been popular with the kids," she teased.

He snorted. "Too popular. The bridesmaids might start thinking I'm a pedo. I've only been dancing with children the whole night."

She laughed at that, swatting his arm playfully.

"They're fun. And they seemed really bored. You know, with the adults being busy so…" he explained.

Rhonda was still smiling at him. She slipped her hands into his.

"You're a good man, Thaddeus," she said.

The first base notes of Captain and Tenille's _Love Will Keep Us Together_ started to play. He took the lead and wrapped one arm around her waist. She let out a giggle at the suddenness of the gesture.

"I'm not that good," he said. It sounded more of a confession than he intended.

They began to sway to the music.

"Why can't you just accept a compliment?" she sighed. "Anyway, thanks for being a wonderful babysitter to the runts of my family."

"No problem," he replied. He concentrated on keeping rhythm and avoided all eye contact.

After a while, she asked, "Why are you so quiet?"

"Huh?"

"Nothing… Just, you've been really quiet since yesterday," she murmured.

"I'm just soaking up the view, and trying to stick this celebration to memory. You know how it is. I have to focus sometimes."

She stared at him. He looked away from her hazel eyes. When the part of the song that went " _I will, I will, I will…"_ played, he spun her. The more dance moves he threw in, he figured, the more questions he could avoid.

However, when she came back to his arms, she was scowling.

"I really want you to have fun tonight," she said.

He suppressed the urge to scoff.

 _Really? This has been the worst night of my life. So far._

Instead, he lied. "I have been having fun. It's a beautiful reception. The view of Lake Vyrnwy is breathtaking."

After he uttered that, Rhonda placed her chin on his shoulder and her arms around his neck. He could smell her flowery perfume and sweet sweat.

She whispered, "I just want you to be happy."

He swallowed his sorrow.

"I know. I am. I'm happy for you," he said. No, insisted. And, he was. Even though he was also crushingly depressed at how everything turned out.

She let him go and shook her head.

"That's not it. I don't want you to be happy for _me_. I just want you to be happy."

That was the problem with happy people. They wanted everyone else to be happy. Like he said to Helga, he just wasn't in the mood. He didn't care for the way Rhonda shoved her joyous day in his face. He couldn't give her what she wanted. He couldn't pretend. So he said the only thing that was true. "You look really beautiful tonight, Rhonda. You make a lovely bride."

Rhonda gave him a half-smile. She caressed his face with her palm, then leaned into him to kiss him on the cheek. Her nude lipstick smudged onto his skin. He closed his eyes to savour the moment, placing a delicate hand on her back.

"Thank you, Thaddeus. You don't look so bad yourself," she said softly.

She pulled away.

"Have a great night."

His voice was gruff when he spoke. "You too."

With a wave, she walked away to join her husband. Eddy leaned in to whisper something in her ear and she laughed in response. Thaddeus couldn't hear her but he imagined the sound.

That night, he ended up in a hotel room with one of the bridesmaids, Eddy's cousin, Miranda. She was a screamer.


	10. Rome IV

**_Rome, October 2005_**

They left the Galleria Borghese totally famished. It was closed on Mondays so they decided to be there at 9 am, on the dot, on a Tuesday morning. Breakfast consisted of only coffee and bread that they bought when they went grocery shopping on Saturday. They have moved out of the hotel two weeks before and rented a small apartment nestled in Navona. It was beautiful. The Piazza was only four minutes away. Every morning they would take a walk together, admiring the fountains.

The apartment itself was a steal. She couldn't believe how cheap the place was for its size and it was pretty massive for an apartment. It was how she imagined an Italian home would be like. Red brick floor, cream walls, and high ceilings with arched doorways. It was beautifully furnished too. Sheer white curtains flew in the breeze against intricate grille windows, antique wooden tables had ornate vases, and the upholstery for all sofas were covered with Napoli grey. The kitchen was modern though. There were black countertops, a sleek new stove, and a breakfast nook in front of a long window with the view of a basilica.

Italy had been a good choice. She had been learning more about art than she had in a year of school.

It was interesting. Her living arrangement. Her and Thaddeus' relationship was odd, to say the least. They were strictly platonic, living in a two bedroom apartment, and they had absolutely no plans until the semester starts in January. They had three months to kill and they had been filling it with board games, conversation, wine, and Italian television. Life was good.

Rhonda knew it wouldn't last. She cherished the time anyway.

The independence she had been craving for has finally been fulfilled since she was free to do whatever she pleases whenever she wants. They only hang out together when they were both bored which had been happening more recently, she had to admit. Only because he was so easy to talk to, she convinced herself.

There was a problem though. The arrangement was highly domestic. She realised this one day after they fought with each other in the produce aisle on which tomatoes to get at the _supermercato._ Rhonda was so spooked by it that she didn't speak to him until they got back to the apartment. He was so confused by what ticked her off that it made her laugh in the end.

Some mornings, he would come to the dining table without a shirt, forgetting that she lived with him. He'd been doing it more often after he found out it made her blush and quite uncomfortable. He liked pissing her off. That Tuesday morning was no different, he came into the kitchen in only his blue pinstriped pyjama bottoms while she was making coffee.

She did a double take as he greeted her with his defined torso. Again.

He had a small smile on those wide lips.

" _Dio mio!_ Will you please put on a shirt? How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to dine with you half-naked. I need to maintain my appetite."

He laughed. " _Dio mio?_ Picking up some Italian, aren't we? And I'm not ruining your appetite, you're just afraid you can't resist me."

Rhonda grabbed a mug and poured some coffee in it. This fake flirting had to end. She looked at him over her cup with her cool girl glare that scared the freshmen in high school. He yawned.

Her voice was dripping with icicles. "Trust me, I won't be jumping you anytime soon."

"You say that now. Girls always resist my charms at first. Did you make coffee for me too?"

She snorted. What a joke. Guys.

"Yeah, yeah. We got to hurry. Grab a mug and get dressed. Seriously. We cannot be late. I want to see everything."

"Relax, would you? You will. We got plenty of time."

It was already quarter to eight. Even though it only takes about a fifteen minute drive to the museum, she wanted to be punctual. Be ahead of the tourists.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when he came closer to her to take his brown coffee mug over her head from the cabinets. He pretended that she wasn't there and she was hit by his masculine smell made up of deodorant, Head & Shoulder's shampoo and a scent that was completely his. She was a sucker for well-groomed guys. She liked that clean, boy scout smell but Thaddeus was never a boy scout. He was the troublemaker that got sent to the principal's office every week for pulling pranks.

She resisted the urge to dip her nose into the crook of his neck to get more of the smell and breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped away from her to get the coffee. The curls of pleasure in her lower abdomen had been growing larger in the past two weeks. She didn't want to imagine what would happen in the following months if this continued. These were dangerous thoughts that she wanted to push out of her mind.

"I already took a shower and because I'm considerate, there's still some hot water."

"You're a saint," he said flatly, scratching the back of his neck. The action made his muscles contract.

 _Oh God._

She bit back a moan and took a quick sip of her coffee, forgetting that it was still too hot.

"Motherfucker!" she yelled.

He shot away from the counter he was leaning on as if he was the one who got burned. There was a concerned look on his face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah… just burnt my tongue. I'm fine." She wasn't. Not since she said the words with a slight lisp.

She watched him rush to the refrigerator and retrieved an ice tray. He cracked it to loosen the ice cubes.

"Thanks," she said, holding out a hand for him to give the ice to.

He didn't.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

"I can do it myse–"

"Open your mouth. Let me see your tongue."

She relented since she just wanted the pain to go away. He peered at her closely then placed the cold cube against her tongue.

"It's swollen," he said softly. "But it'll heal."

Rhonda could only look at him. His brows were furrowed in concentration and his eyes were trained on her tongue, inspecting the damage. Never had she been part of something so intimate. She's had sex before, sure, but this feels almost too personal, too vulnerable.

He continued to rub the cube against her painful tongue. She took over and withdraw her tongue causing the ice chip and his fingers to go inside her mouth. Their eyes met.

She held her gaze as she sucked the ice and his fingers.

His pupils dilated and his lips separated. He snatched his hand away.

"Uh, I hope your tongue feels better," he mumbled.

Rhonda swallowed the ice which had already turned to water. "It does. Can I have some more?"

The question stunned him, his brown eyes were still on her lips. "Huh?"

"Ice chips. More ice chips," she clarified, pointing at the tray. It gave her great pleasure to see him so nervous. So, she had dropped her voice a couple of notches to project bedroom talk. He had been playing with her with the whole shirt off routine. It was time for payback.

"Oh, here," he said with a nervous laugh, handing her the whole tray. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Like you said, we might be late."

Rhonda had never seen him ran away so fast from someone before. She snickered when he was out of sight and then sucked on the ice cubes to drive away the pain.

…

"I'm starving."

"Stop whining. It's not attractive."

"I'm literally staaaarving," she whined even more in a Valley girl accent just to annoy him.

He rolled his eyes.

They decided to drive around Rome in his beat up Fiat. Even though it was old, it grew on Rhonda. It was such a cute car. It even came in one of her favourite colours, turquoise. The windows were rolled down and her now mahogany hair flew haphazardly. She had dyed it out of a box a few days before and was surprised it turned out great. They budget their money so she couldn't have it professionally done. She was proud of her spontaneity and thriftiness.

"I'll take you back to Alfredo's."

She put her hands up in celebration. "Yay! Could we do take out? I want to eat at home since I'm pretty beat. We could go out at night."

"Sure."

She didn't realise she had regarded the apartment as their home until moments later.

He parked the car on an empty slot. They got lucky. Parking in Rome was hell.

She hopped out of the car and didn't wait for him since she already knew the way. For the month they had spent in Rome, they had become regulars of the first restaurant they visited.

" _Buongiorno, bella!_ " Alfredo greeted as soon as he saw her. He didn't even bother handing her a menu. She had already memorised it by heart.

" _Ciao, mio cara,_ " she replied.

The old Italian man gave a hearty laugh and a kiss on both her cheeks. She always greeted him in a melodramatic fashion.

"I'll prepare your favourite, yes?"

She smiled at him. This old man had more charm than a lot of young guys she'd met in university. Plus, he fed her.

"We actually want a take out."

"Nonsense! Eat here, I'll give you a free bottle of _Soave_."

That was her favourite white wine. She hugged the head waiter and owner of the _ristorante._ "You're a man after my own heart, _Signore_ Alfredo. Deal."

Alfredo patted her back with a chuckle before leading her inside. Thaddeus came in a few moments later.

"I love this place. I'm going to miss it when I leave," she said as he sat down.

"Then visit."

"I will. I intend to."

He nodded, leaning back on his chair. "How many more weeks are you planning to stay?"

She blinked at him. She thought he knew then remember she hadn't told him. "My semester starts in January and until then, I'm free."

He appeared contemplative. "Hmm."

"What hmm? What was that hmm?"

"I'm just thinking that that's a long time."

She narrowed her eyes. "It is. What about it?"

"Don't you want to see your friends back home? Nadine?"

"I saw her before I came here."

"Does your parents know you're here?"

"Does yours?" she shot back.

"Of course. They're not worried about me. I'm an Italian citizen and we have family here."

She knew what he was implying. Are her parents aware of what she's been up to?

"They know. It's none of their business what I do with my time."

And with that, the conversation ended. He must have sensed she didn't want to discuss it further by the hard set of her mouth.

"Where's your family?" she asked. She felt awful about bringing the tension.

"My family here?"

He seemed surprised she was interested.

"Yeah."

"He's bringing your lunch over," he said, pointing to Alfredo.

She gave an incredulous gasp. "You're related to Alfredo? So it's not because he thinks that I'm charming that he's been giving us free stuff?"

"He thinks you're charming."

"But that's not why we've been getting free meals."

"I think you're an incredibly charming young lady," Alfredo said from behind her, making her jump. "But this _birichino_ over here is also my grandnephew."

"I cannot believe it. How can such a wonderful gentleman be related to this vermin?"

"Hey!" Thaddeus yelled in protest. "I can have you thrown out of here."

"I would never do that in a million years, _signora._ " Alfredo beamed at her, placing down her favourite plate of pasta in front of her.

"Traitor," Thaddeus muttered before thanking his granduncle in Italian.

The older man rubbed his hair, which Thad protested against, before attending to the other customers.

"Wow, never would have guessed," she said before grabbing her fork and twirling her spaghetti.

"That Alfredo is my _prozio_?"

"Uh, yeah. He's incredibly handsome and nice whereas…"

He ignored her.

"So, let me see. She's your mother's uncle?" she continued.

He nodded.

"Is there anyone else in here related to you?"

"My cousins are all in school right now. They're young. I don't think you'll meet them. And also, they live in Florence."

"Oh. I heard it's beautiful there."

"It is. Can we talk about something else besides my family?"

He always did this. Whenever she got to close or pried too much, he shuts down.

"Nah, I'm interested. So, the cousins and aunts or uncles that live in Florence, are they Alfredo's children?"

He squinted before sighing. "Yeah. Why are you so interested anyway?"

"I'm bored and I'm curious. There's another half of your family living here. You never mentioned them before in school."

"Nobody ever asked."

"I'm asking now."

"Doesn't mean I have to answer."

He had crossed his arms like a defiant child. It made Rhonda want to giggle but she knew he's in a mood right now and he wouldn't appreciate it.

"Yeesh. You have issues. I'll drop it. For now."

"Good. Because I came here for lunch not an interrogation."

They ate their meal quietly and complimented the young chef, Salvi, once again before they left. Their quiet meal lead to a quiet walk back to their car and then a quiet ride back to the apartment.

They both retired to their own rooms. Rhonda took a nap and woke up just as the sun was beginning to set. She went downstairs to find Thaddeus with a stemless glass of wine. The bottle was on the coffee table. It was the free one Alfredo had promised her.

"My _Soave_!" she cried.

"Our _Soave_ ," he corrected, draining his glass and pouring himself some more.

"That's it. I'm getting a glass."

"Suit yourself."

Rhonda headed to the kitchen to retrieve it. She couldn't understand why he was so angry at her for asking a simple question. Then it hit her, if Alfredo was his granduncle, where are his grandparents?

She walked back quietly to the sofa and sat at the furthest corner away from him. She too, poured herself a glass. The setting sun had turned the cream walls orange.

"Where are your grandparents?"

He became still, staring into space.

"Thaddeus?" she placed a hand on his arm.

"Why are you asking?"

She took note of the way his voice had gone devoid of emotion.

"Since Alfredo is your granduncle I just wonder why we haven't met your grandparents," she explained.

There was a long pause and Rhonda wished she could take back the words. She really had no right to pry. Maybe this time she had gone to far. He stared at the wall. His hand gripped his drink tightly. Under her had, she felt his muscles tighten.

"This was my grandparents' place," he said. She couldn't help but look around after he said the words.

 _Was…_

Oh no.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He closed his eyes and sighed. This was what he had been avoiding, she realised.

"Tell that to my mom."

She didn't know what to say to that so instead she focused on what else the revelation had uncovered.

"So there's no landlord? Where has all my rent money gone?"

"To pay for our groceries," he revealed. "And the electric bill."

"So I'm the only who has been paying for everything?" she asked and knew right away he would never do that. He would have paid for his equal share. But she wanted to distract him from the memory of his grandparents' death, which she, idiotically, brought up.

"Yes. But you're filthy rich. You can afford it."

He was clearly lying. She let his arm go.

He got off the sofa, trying to escape their conversation. She followed him. However, his legs were longer than hers and he was a track athlete. It took a while for her to catch up.

"Bull. Probably just been paying for my share since you know I wouldn't accept a free offer. Why didn't you just tell me the place is yours?"

She knew the answer to that too but she wanted to hear it from him.

"It's not mine. It's my mother's."

He has lead her to his bedroom. She almost hit his back when he came to a sudden stop. He turned around to glare at her.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"Not at all" she said.

He groaned.

"Just get out, Rhonda."

"Not until you tell me why."

"I don't know why."

"You know why."

"No, I don't!" he growled. This was the Thaddeus from high school. Fierce and on the defence. Prickly whenever she was around. Antagonistic even when she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Yes, you do."

"You clearly know the answer already, so why don't you just spare me and tell me all about it?"

"I'd rather hear it from you," she said.

Lloyds never quit. She got that stubborn streak from both sides of the family. She was not backing down.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"The truth."

He laughed. It was a hollow sound. "The truth? Alright, here's the truth for you. I brought you here because I couldn't face this house alone. Too many memories. After my grandmother died my mother was devastated and asked me to handle it. She didn't go for the funeral, said she couldn't see her mother like that, and sent me here to take care of the property transfer. It took a while so I stayed at the hotel while everything got sorted and you came along. A few weeks later, you said you wanted to get out of the hotel and have a place to stay so naturally, I offered."

He released an unsteady breath.

"You remember that first day? You were by my side and when I opened the door to this apartment I stopped thinking of my grandmother for a while. Like she didn't occupy the space. It made me breathe a little easier. I didn't want to tell you that. It isn't right to drop a bomb like that on you."

He was shaking when he was done. It's as though he's bottled everything up and has now released it in one big go. His grief was devastating. His grandmother must have meant a lot to him. However, Rhonda knew this was good for him. He needed a release.

"Do you want a hug?" she offered, shrugging her shoulders, unsure of what to do. She's never been there for someone mourning before.

He nodded hesitantly. The gesture brought to her mind a lost child. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He slowly hugged her back. She felt him breathe deeply and steadily.

"You're so weird," he whispered.

"Puh-lease, nobody can beat you in that category."

She patted his back before letting him go. He gave her a shy smile.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Pssh, no problem. Now let's go finish that wine."


	11. Rome V

**_Rome, November 2005_**

He was reading the financial times again. It was a habit that deeply disturbed her. Her father did that every morning with his cup of coffee and this boy of nineteen was doing the same just across her. She didn't like it. How he seemed so mature, far wiser than their years. Far wiser than her.

"What's so interesting? Why do you read that crap?"

"Have to keep track of the market," he mumbled without looking up.

She stirred her latte and admired how he looked in his reading glasses. He hadn't bother to put on his contact lenses today but at least he had a shirt on. She also hated how she was being ignored.

"You scare me," she continued.

"You'd think someone rich like you would like to pay a little more attention." He glanced up from the paper to shoot her a condescending look.

She grinned. "I hire people to do that for me. The rich can afford that."

"You make me sick," he said without bite, getting back to his newspaper.

"Just keep on getting sicker. You'll just be helping my family's stocks in pharmaceuticals grow."

Having had enough with their conversation, Rhonda got up to get more cheese. One of the things she loved about Italy, and there were so many she had lost count, was the delicious cheeses. The bread too, real bread. Not like the sliced monstrosity they had back home. It had made for many delicious afternoon snacks. She sliced some _Pecorino Toscano_ and then grabbed the honey from the cupboard.

Once done, she returned to her place at the breakfast nook. She dipped her cheese into the glossy golden syrup before taking a large bite. It was heaven how the sweetness of the honey and the nutty saltiness of the cheese combines.

"What do you want to do today?" he asked, still reading that blasted newspaper.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really want to go out. I'm still tired from last night."

The night before they went out dancing. There was a great bar with a live band just a short distance from the apartment. The band played great covers of upbeat classics that had everyone moving. Not only were dance moves aplenty, drinks were too.

She was extremely hungover. He, on the other hand, doesn't seem to show signs of partying the night before. She detested him even more.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Not really."

"Urgh. I had too much Chianti yesterday it makes me feel like my head is about to explode and here you are reading the newspaper like you aren't in pain," she groaned.

"High tolerance."

"Annoying."

"It's genetics. Not really my fault."

"Still unfair," she sing-songed, dipping her head on the table.

He sighed. "Drink some water. It's like you've never been hungover before."

If only that was true… "I've already been drinking as much as I can. I've been peeing every ten minutes if you haven't noticed."

"I haven't."

She let out another groan. He slapped the newspaper near her face which made her jump up.

"What the hell?" she yelled. He was smiling.

"I thought that would stop your bitching."

If he was annoying her before, now she wanted to strangle him. "When I get my hands on you…"

"Below the belt?" he joked.

"I'd snap your favourite appendage in half." she threatened.

"Why would you do that to my right arm?"

He got up to put his mug in the sink.

"You think you're very funny, don't you?"

He shot her a cocky look. "Babe, I think I'm hilarious."

Recently, they'd been calling each other pet names. However, unlike a month ago when they had been joking around. It had started feeling more natural. Which was dangerous. What happens when they go back home?

 _Home._

The thought of having to go home depressed her.

There was a knock on the door. They stared at each other.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Rhonda asked.

He shook his head, slightly confused. "No. I'll check who it is."

Thaddeus disappeared from the kitchen and she settled deeper into the cushions, grabbing the financial times from across the table. It was only seconds later when she heard him call out.

"Rhonda!"

"Yeah?" she yelled.

"You better come here."

She groaned. What was so bloody important? She marched out of the kitchen only to find Thaddeus standing beside her mother by the door. As usual, her lips were set in a tight line of disappointment.

"Hello, Rhonda."

…

Her mother had always been flawlessly elegant. Even when she had to confront her irresponsible daughter, she chose her garment well–open toed black pumps, form-fitting black slacks, a cream silk shirt, and a gold wristwatch. Her lips were lined with red, her favourite colour, and her cheeks had a touch of rose blush. She hadn't bother with her eyes. Understated, that was how her mother liked to dress. Old money style, Rhonda called it.

She had both hands clasped together on her lap. Brooke Lloyd's Connecticut accent peaked through when she thanked Thaddeus for the coffee he set in front of her.

The sofa dipped when he sat beside Rhonda. For whatever reason, he was there. Maybe it was for moral support or he just wanted to be entertained. With him, she never knew.

"This is lovely house, uh…"

"Thaddeus. Thad will do just fine, ma'am," he said in an _aw shucks_ manner that pleased her mother. Rhonda wanted to roll her eyes but if his charm could help her get out this predicament, he could charm away.

Getting straight to the point, her mother asked, "How long have you two been living together?" She just wanted to die of embarrassment at the implication. She didn't risk looking at his face. But Rhonda's methods always involved fighting fire with fire. If her mother wanted to be frank, so be it.

"We're not sleeping with each other if that's what you want to know," she replied flatly.

"Rhonda!" Brooke gasped. "How crass."

To her right, Thaddeus shot her a look that screamed _"Let me handle this."_

"I don't care if you believe me but I'm telling the truth. We're roommates. Well, more like he's my landlord. I pay him rent."

She had disappointed her mother again if the frown was any indication. Annoyed by this turn of events, she took comfort in her own cup of coffee. Thaddeus had learnt how she likes it, with a lot of milk and sweetener, and makes it like a pro. It was sometimes nice to find a cup made just for her sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Rhonda is here to study art history. She's made great progress," he chimed in.

Brooke turned to him with a tight smile.

"Oh yes, she told us what her plans were before leaving. She also said she'd only be gone for two weeks. It's been nearly two months," her mother said in a clipped tone, still glaring at her daughter.

She met her mother's stare right back. If she was in the university or in any school for that matter, they didn't care, but as long as she's exposed to the real world to gain some experience they just had to have an apoplectic fit.

"I'm not leaving," she ground out.

Brooke sighed, a sigh of someone who'd lived a thousand lives. What an illusion. Her mother appeared exceptionally young. She didn't look a day over thirty which was unfair because she was supposed to be pushing fifty. Maybe it was one thing to look forward to when she gets older, Rhonda thought.

"I know I can't make you. You seem to be thinking you're your own person now. At nineteen."

"I don't want to talk about this," she dismissed.

"Tough luck!" her mother snapped.

Thaddeus started to rise. "I'll give you two privacy."

"Stay," Rhonda ordered him. He felt like her armour. Her protective shield. If he left, she would be vulnerable to her mother's full assault but with him in the room she would never cross the line. Lloyds don't air their dirty laundry in public.

"I should really go," he started to say.

She gripped his hand.

 _Stay. Please._

He got the message. He stayed put and gave her hand a squeeze back. She'd been there for him and he'd be there for her.

"Fine, you want to get this innocent boy involved…"

"He's not that innocent," Rhonda muttered.

"I'm not quite done, young lady."

Her mother's eyes burned with fury. Rhonda had been pushing her to the edge so she kept quiet. There was an Italian breeze that made the curtains dance. If her mother decided she had to be back home, she would have to leave this beautiful house. The sadness she felt before stepping into Rome crept back.

Brooke cleared her throat.

"You seem to forget that you're an heiress to a fortune and that there are people who are dependent on your very existence and safety. You have responsibilities back at the manor. Responsibilities you have been ignoring whilst you're here on your little trip. Not to mention, your father has been worried sick."

She wanted to laugh.

"He's not. Let's be honest."

"Of course he's been worried. He's your father!" Brooke exclaimed.

"And were you? Were you worried?"

The question stumped her mother. Rhonda had always known she'd gotten her stubborn determination from her mother. Her father was too soft. He loved cashmere sweaters, chess, wine, and his wife. Not in any particular order. A masculine image is not exactly his top priority. Her father was more of a child sometimes. A strict, mildly unreasonable, rich child.

"No, I wasn't," Brooke said.

Rhonda could feign apathy but she was affected by that answer.

"I know you'd be alright," she told her daughter, her gaze softening. "Why didn't you just call us, dear? Tell us what you've been up to. We need to know things like that. We deserve to, at the very least."

She hadn't been telling them because she wanted to get away from them. Her parents loved her, yes, in their twisted minds, they do, but they suffocated her. Guards, tutors, nannies… It never ended. Every year was just an upgrade.

"My cellphone got stolen on my first night here," she confessed.

Brooke was not impressed. "You couldn't get a new one?" she said flatly.

Rhonda sighed. "I didn't want to. If I was in trouble, I would have called. Believe me. I needed to do this on my own, mother. You don't have to watch me all the time. I'm not a child."

"Then stop behaving like one," Brooke hissed."Being an adult means being responsible. It means not being selfish and treating the people who care about you like dirt."

It took a while for the older Lloyd to compose herself, taking a deep breath and dusting imaginary lint from her pants. Rhonda was still grasping Thaddeus' hand. It was her lifeline now. He had taken a close peek into her life. Hopefully, with that, came a better understanding.

Brooke's eyes snapped back to the two teenagers. She regarded Thaddeus with a cool gaze before she settled in on her daughter.

"You have two weeks. That's all I'm going to give you," Brooke simply said before taking a sip from the coffee that had been offered to her. She placed the cup back on the saucer and its clink was the only sound in the room.

"I know I can't make you leave now but I think two weeks is generous."

All three of them sat in silence.

"You can't make me leave," Rhonda said with a grim determination.

Her heart started hammering in her chest. They are not taking this away from her. This had been the best time of her life.

"I think you better listen to your mother," Thaddeus said beside her. She pretended he wasn't there and continued glaring at the woman who's had control over her life for nineteen years.

"Thank you, Thaddeus," Brooke said. "This coffee is delicious by the way."

The older woman stood up, smoothing her blouse. "We await your return on the 16th. You'll receive your ticket by mail."

Once again, her happiness will be snatched away. Rhonda was so furious that her mother could just show up and ruin everything. She wanted to hurl her coffee cup at her but Brooke had already disappeared through the front door. The sound of her heels echoed down the corridor. Rhonda continued to sit, shaking with so much anger that tears had started to fall from her eyes.

"I hate her. I hate her so much," she breathed out.

She snatched her hand from Thaddeus' grip to wipe her angry tears away.

"Maybe it's time. to go back," he said softly.

In one harsh move, she whipped her head towards him and growled. "Are you kidding me? You're on her fucking side?"

"No! I'm not on anyone's side. Look, all I'm saying is that you can't stay here forever. You must have realised that."

She stood up, her anger now directed at someone else. Maybe someone who didn't deserve it but she didn't care. Hell hath no fury and whatnot. "You said I could stay here until December!"

"I never said that. You assumed that," he pointed out.

She gave a mocking laugh and threw her hands up. "So, that's it. You're kicking me out? Isn't this just peachy? Goddamn it, Curly. I thought you're smarter than this."

"Don't call me that," he said, standing up as well so he could look her eye to eye. Instead of stepping back, she bent forward. She wasn't going to let him bully her.

"Call you what? Curly? I'll call you whatever I want. Asshole. Bastard. Backstabber. Curly… Curly, Curly, Curly, Curly, Cur–Omph!"

He cut her off with his lips. They were warm and soft. Pliant. He tasted like Espresso and sin. It was a delicious mix and she wanted more. His arm already snaked around her waist so she leaned forward to grant him better access. She wrapped her arms around his neck and weaved her fingers through his hair.

Just as sudden as the kiss, he pulled away.

"Shit! Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking," he cursed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He couldn't look her in the eye.

Her lips were still glossy and moist. Thaddeus had just kissed her for the very first time. And… she liked it. Loved it. Wanted more.

"It's alright," she whispered.

"We were both upset and y-you were yelling. I c-couldn't–"

"Shh," she said, coming closer, putting a finger on his lips. His eyes widened as he realised what she was about to do.

"Sit down on the couch," she commanded.

"Now?" he asked, so confused at how everything is turning out.

She nodded. He sat down. As soon as he did, she straddled his lap, both legs on either side of him. He was starting to breathe heavily. He still wasn't touching her, unsure of what to do with his hands. She placed them on her hips.

They stared into each other's eyes.

Rhonda hooked her arms over his shoulders.

"You know how I told my mother just now that we weren't sleeping together?" she asked, rocking her hips back and forth.

He nodded dumbly, biting his bottom lip.

"What if we changed that?" she whispered, giving his ear a little kiss. She knew she was only trying to avoid the anger and confrontation. There would be time after when they had to discuss what had happened and what has to happen.

But this seemed inevitable. The tension had been crackling between them for weeks. She wanted him. She had wanted him for some time. It would be foolish of her to deny this opportunity when she could be gone in two weeks.

He hissed, his large hands digging into her hips, begging her to slow down.

"We can't," he said.

She pulled back to look at him again. He was staring at her with such adoration in his eyes that she knew his restraint was only out of respect. "Why? Don't you want me?"

"Of course, I do," he exhaled in a hoarse whisper. "But this is wrong. We're both angry at each other."

"I don't feel angry now," she said, giving her hips another roll.

He shut his eyes and released a low moan. "Rhonda, please, try to think. Stop."

She sighed. She pulled him close until his breath tickled her face. Their foreheads touching.

"I'll be gone in two weeks. I have to go. I know that. You were trying to tell me that earlier. I think they might stop paying for my tuition fees if I don't get back. I just don't want to accept that."

The bottomline was that she didn't want to leave him.

"I know," he said, sounding sad. "It doesn't matter. That's not a reason for us to do this."

"I really like you, you know," she said, suppressing her disappointment by covering her words with a light tone.

She saw him smile.

"Finally."

She laughed. Then, she give him a peck on the lips.

"High school wasn't kind to me, you know," he said.

"What? Excuse me, you were almost crowned Prom King. Don't throw a pity party now. You were popular."

"But I didn't get the girl."

"You got plenty of girls," she scoffed.

"Not the one I wanted," he said sincerely.

Her heart sang.

"You got her now."

…

In the end, his initial resistance didn't matter. She sneaked into his room that night. It was the last straw. Upon finding her in his bed, he pulled her against him and showered her with kisses. They explored each other's skin and memorised each mark and screamed into the night. She turned him into a man.

They both laid on his bed, panting. Sweat seeping into his sheets.

"Can we just go again? Let's make the best of my two weeks," she giggled into her pillow. His arm was casually around her waist, his hand on her breast.

Rhonda felt his laugh on the back of her neck. "Can you give me time to breathe? I promise you we'll go again."

She flipped around to face him. "If only my mother could see me now…"

"God, no. She'll probably have me shot and you sent to a convent for dallying with a commoner."

She snorted, placing a hand on his face. "Oh please. She already thought we were doing it."

It was his turn to be affronted. He rolled his eyes. "She had too much faith in me then."

Rhonda waggled her eyebrows. "But not enough in me."

"I never knew you were such a pervert," he said, putting his hands on her ass and squeezing. "Not that I mind, really."

"It takes one to know one."

She kissed him and then some. Just to show him how perverted she could be.

…

Her ticket had arrived in the mail.

She tossed the envelope on the table and sighed. The end was looming closer and it brought back the same doubts she had before she met Thaddeus in Italy. What would the future hold? How does he fit into it? Could they make it work? Their universities were states apart. A three hour plane ride away.

Her eyes swept their cozy apartment. She was caught in surprise when they started to water. They had made love on almost every surface by now. The kitchen table, the countertops, and even the steps of the sunken living room. Just this morning, they christened her clawfoot tub.

It was going to be a challenge to leave Italy. She already feel her heart wrenching at the thought of being away from him. Her best friend, her confidant, her lover…

"What are you thinking about?" Thaddeus asked, wrapping his arms around her. He gave her shoulder a butterfly kiss. She closed her eyes as he snuggled in the crook of her neck,

"Just how much I'll miss this place."

"Just the place?"

"Yeah. No particular person in mind at all. Just this apartment and the furniture."

"Hmm," he started nibbling on her skin.

"Thad."

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen when I go back?"

He froze.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean? What happens to us?"

His arms fell back to his side and she inched away from him to see his face. His brows were furrowed. That was the moment she knew he was as clueless as she was. This intelligent boy, this amazingly sweet and considerate boy, had no ideas or plans for their future. The thought upset her more than she thought it would.

"I'll call you."

"That's it?"

"We'll make it work."

"How?"

"I don't know, Rhonda. Let's take it one day at a time. Alright?"

She wasn't satisfied with that answer but she didn't want to fight him when she only had a few days left. She'll make do with the time left. She want to remember this whole period of her life as perfect. So, she smiled.

"Alright."

He gave her one back. As uneasy as hers had been.

"Do you want to go to my _prozio's_ place for dinner?"

"Sure. It'll be lovely to say hi to Alfredo. "

…

She went back home with a heavy heart a week later. Months passed and he never called as he said he would. She didn't either. She never picked up the phone to avoid seeming desperate. The semester started and Rhonda got caught up in the stacks of papers, exams, and projects.

Across the country, after two more months in Italy, the same thing was happening to him. A year passes. They haven't heard news of each other. They thought about each other a lot though, both dreamt of their time in Italy as they slept in their dorms.

She went on dates with a few cute boys from a nearby fraternity. He went out with voluptuous Amber from Management Accounting 001.

It was spring break when they were both home. A coincidence, really, that they both wanted to have pasta for dinner that night. The tomatoes were ripe and on sale at the produce aisle.

They weren't paying attention to other people. She was listening to music and he was inspecting a tomato.

It was then that he smelled a familiar scent. A fruity, tropical perfume that he had known only one woman in his life wore. He glanced up and there she was. She was wearing a navy blue summer dress with white ballet flats, inspecting a tomato like he was. Her hair was longer than he remembered, cascading down her back in an inky waterfall.

She must have sensed someone watching her because she looked up.

Their eyes met. They don't say anything to each other.

The look translated everything they wanted to convey. Longing. Betrayal. Hurt. Lust. It's as if the year melted away and they were back in the _supermercato._

She gives a slight nod.

Before turning back with her basket, disappearing behind a shelf, and leaving him standing there.

The tomato had turned into a pulp in his hand.


	12. Palo Alto

**_Palo Alto, June 2009_**

"Now that we're going to graduate, what should we do?" Bradley Sharp, a stocky young man with a blonde buzzcut asked his roommate for the past four years. He was going to miss this guy. "Score some chicks?"

"Ha ha. As if you don't do that on a regular basis already," Thad replied.

"I try to fill my monthly quota."

Thad snorted.

They were packing up their things into moving boxes. It was so strange how four years worth of memories could fit into pieces of cardboard. Brad and Thad they'd been called, like some comedic duo from the 50s. They did pull some huge pranks to earn their goofball reputations but they were also financial wizards with jobs in famous firms waiting for them when they graduate.

He watched Thaddeus fold his comforter as he opened another beer.

"It's going to suck not seeing you everyday, man," he admitted.

"Aww, you're going to make me cry," his roomie teased. He tossed a Stanford sweater into the bin. "Don't be a drama queen. Our offices are a building away from each other. We're going to be forced to have lunch all the time _then_ you'll be regretting how much you see me,"

Brad smiled. In Thaddeus, he found a lifelong friend. They bonded over the fact that they were both dorks growing up and were such late bloomers. They also loved running and had been constantly beating each other's records at the track. He shared with him that he was there on scholarship since he came from a poor household with a deadbeat dad and a mother who ran away when she regained some sense.

Thaddeus didn't judge him like some of their rich friends did. However, as much as Thad knew about him, Brad didn't know much about his roommate. Oh, mundane and shallow things like favourite foods and sports teams he was aware of but stuff about his home and things that were real personal, Thaddeus kept inside. It was frustrating especially when his roommate get into one of his moods, ones that kept him in the gym hammering away at a punching bag relentlessly. Whenever Thad was having an episode like that, it was best to steer clear. He's asked him to share before but the guy always clams up when they get too deep.

All that Brad knew was that there was a girl from back home. Judging from his friend's behaviour, she did a number on him. Even after all these years, his boy was still hung up on her. He dated, sure. However, no one really stuck around for more than a month, two months tops. They were all blondes too. One thing was for sure, after Brad did a quick Google search some time ago, his dream girl was dark-haired.

"So, is Rhonda coming for graduation?" he asked cautiously.

His friend's head whipped up so fast he wondered is he got whiplash.

"I don't think so. Why are you asking? Jeez, is this one of those heart to heart sessions again? Sometimes, I feel like you're in the wrong business. You should be a shrink with all your nosey questions. You'd be perfect for it."

Brad felt kind of sorry for his friend. Locking up your emotions doesn't seem like the way to live a happy life.

"Whoa! I ask one question and your defences are up. When are you going to let it go, man?"

Thaddeus sighed. He stood up to carry a box or stationery into their cupboard.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just… I don't really like talking about her."

Brad took another sip of beer. He grabbed a can and tossed one at Thad. He caught it effortlessly. He popped it open and it gave a hiss as the air escaped. The man took a huge gulp before coming back to sit on the edge of his bed.

"That's why you should. Let it out. Are you still in contact with her?"

"No. Not really. I've seen her around when I go back home." Thaddeus gave a noncommittal shrug, his eyes were on a black box that had been delivered recently. His friend had set it aside at the foot of his bed and had left it untouched for five days.

"She sent that, didn't she?" Brad asked, his curiosity piqued.

"She said I should wear it for graduation."

"What are they? Are they shoes."

His friend nodded.

"I'm not wearing them. I'm sending them back."

"Why?"

"Because they're extremely expensive."

"Dude, you should not only wear it but keep it."

Thad gave some sort of grimace as if the thought disgusted him. It made sense to Brad. His friend never liked odious displays of wealth. Brad knew he came from money. Or at least from his mother's side but it's almost as if he's ashamed of it. Brad suspected that even his childhood buddies had no clue. Thaddeus didn't like to reveal that he knew high fashion or could order without the menu at a Michelin Star restaurant. His humility was one of the reasons they remained friends. Brad would have never known about his wealth if they hadn't spent a summer in Italy at one of his aunt's villa.

"What brand is it?"

"They're Testoni. Dress shoes."

Brad gave him a blank look. "The fact that I don't know that name makes me think it's exceedingly high-priced."

"It is," he said, pained. "It's from Italy."

So, this Rhonda was thoughtful and generous. Interesting.

Brad also knew she was an heiress to a massive fortune, from both sides of the family. It was one of the things that came up in his internet search. He could still see her sitting on a wooden chaise in a long red dress. The background was a sprawling green lawn with massive stone fountains. It was a fashion editorial featured with an article about America's young elite. In the other photos, she stood tall and proud like an Amazon with sharp features and intelligent hazel eyes, her black hair whipping behind her in the wind. In those shots, she was wearing a lemon sundress beside the pool.

It was amazing that a girl from such a wealthy upbringing was allowed to go to public school and not the private education her kind usually received. An interesting choice her parents had made, Brad thought at the time.

"Just keep it. You'll offend her if you send it back."

"Even if I don't intend to wear it?"

"What's the big deal? Just use them."

"They are like $30,000 a pop."

Brad's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Holy shit! Why aren't you selling them on eBay right now?"

Thaddeus, caught by surprise, laughed loudly.

"I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind."

There was a moment of silence between them. Brad knew he had to say something. It's been too long that this tension between them whenever Rhonda was mentioned erupted. Something had to be done.

"Do you still like her?"

"What?"

"Do you still like her?" Brad repeated.

Thaddeus looked insulted. He was shaking his head. "I must be a glutton for punishment if I still do. I haven't thought of her in years. Well, not since she sent those shoes."

Brad knew that was such a lie.

"I think you still do."

His friends mouth was set in a grim line. "Rhonda's in the past."

"Why not place her in the future as well?"

Thaddeus laughed bitterly. "I fucked up, okay? I don't think she'll be quick to forgive me after what happened."

Brad was now even more curious. "What happened?"

There was a long suffering sigh followed by a cluck of the tongue. He was hesitating whether he should share the story. He laid down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling as if trying to remember.

"It was about three years ago. When we met in Italy. We lived together for a while."

"I didn't knew you guys were that serious."

"No, we weren't. It happened by accident…"

Then, Thaddeus proceeded to tell him everything from the very beginning. It took almost an hour to tell the story and Brad listened with rapt attention, cutting in whenever he had a question. By the end of the it, he wanted to shake his friend for being such an idiot.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Thaddeus was at a loss for word. He glanced at his friend and shrugged. "Until now I haven't figured it out. I was just–"

"Chicken. Chicken shit."

"There is that."

Brad started to put the pieces together. They had finished all the beer. He got up to get the big bag of Cheetos he bought earlier in the week. It felt good to know that after all this time, Thaddeus had trusted him enough to share something so important and private about himself.

Not that Brad would ever say that aloud. He wasn't an idiot. Men just don't discuss those kinds of things. They didn't like appearing weak or vulnerable. But even he had the emotional capacity and innate understanding that Thaddeus, when it comes to Rhonda, liked to pretend that he doesn't care because she was one of his biggest weaknesses. Brad imagined that Thaddeus had done some pretty stupid shit in the past all for that girl.

"I have a theory."

"Oh, this I got to hear," Thad said drily.

"I think it's because you don't think you're enough for her."

Thaddeus bolted upright. "What? That's ridiculous."

Brad grinned at him smugly. He knew he had pinpointed the problem.

"You have some hangup that she's better than you."

He opened the Cheetos bag and dipped his hand inside to grab a fistful. He stuffed the orange puffs in his mouth.

"She's not! She's a snotty, conceited, arrogant snob."

"From what you told me about her, I don't sense that at all," he mumbled. It was hard to talk with a mouthful of delicious factory orange.

"Well, you haven't met her and you didn't go to school with her. She was insufferable. Especially in high school."

Brad gulped down the snack.

"Did she ever look down on people who weren't as rich as her?" he pointed out.

That made Thaddeus pause. He seemed to be reeling through years of memories.

"Not since we were children. She was never–she was never high-handed about being rich. She never rubbed it in people's faces not unless it was in a self-deprecating manner."

Brad understood. He was starting to get a clearer picture of Rhonda Lloyd and why his friend fell in love with her a long time ago.

"There you have it. You both share a shame for being born with a silver spoon. Although her spoon is probably encrusted in diamonds."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Well, not ashamed but embarrassed maybe. It's because you don't like making people feel bad."

His friend blinked at him. "You should really be a shrink."

"I'm just intuitive and astute."

Thaddeus smiled. "Kind of like Rhonda."

"Don't start getting any ideas. I'm not into men."

His roommate threw a pillow at his face. Brad quickly shielded his bag of Cheetos.

"Hey! This is the only bag I have left."

"See if I care."

"You want my advice?" Brad asked.

"No," Thaddeus snapped.

"Wear the shoes."

"Why?"

"I think it would be an insult to her not to. She obviously extended a sign of affection even when you're the one who acted like an ass years ago."

He noticed his friend's face growing red in shame.

"I know."

"Wear them and then call her. She obviously wants you to contact her if she's giving you $30,000 shoes," Brad concluded, still not finished with his snack. "Then tell her about your awesome best friend whose shoes are getting kind of old."

Thaddeus groaned. "Why did I ever get stuck with you for a roommate?"

"Dude, we're Brad and Thad. It's meant to be," he gave his friend a pat on the leg. He gave a slight kick in response. "It's meant to be."

"Kill me now."

* * *

 **Author's note:** A big thank you to all the reviewers of this story especially Sandra Strickland, endlessbleed01, and Hanna Cabrodi. You guys are awesome and you make me want to tell a better story every day. Also, since I live in Singapore, most of the stuff about American culture and the lifestyles of the rich is purely through research (thank God for the internet) so if there are any discrepancies, blame my ignorance and lack of travel. It's been such fun writing this fic because I really need to research about each city I feature in a chapter. Read about the local weather and look at the images for physical description. It's been great fun and a wonderful learning experience. The whole Rome segment increased my desire to go to Italy.

Anyway, more chapters to come. I wouldn't be surprised if it reaches twenty.


	13. Hillwood II

**_Hillwood, February 2016_**

At a huge suite in the Ritz-Carlton at exactly 2:53 in the afternoon, the bed shook as a woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Her hands turned white, gripping her lover's silk shirt to hold on for a bumpy ride. The man's breathing had become shallow and quick, hot on her neck. She bounced on top of him as he let out a long hiss. They were both so close. _Just a little bit more._

At the peak, he let out a guttural yell and they both exploded before sagging onto the soft mattress.

…

"I didn't plan for that to happen," Rhonda announced after five minutes of staring at the ceiling. She was trying to get her breath back. The green light on the smoke detector had flashed about a 120 times. She had counted. Beside her, a man gave a slight snort. He drapes a hand across her stomach.

"You always say that."

"But this time, I really meant it. I was only going to talk to you about my portfolio."

She could almost see the smile that forms on his face. There was laughter in his voice.

"Your financial portfolio is fine if I have to guess. Don't you have people to take care of it?"

His hand made its way to her breast. He gives it a slight squeeze which earned him a tight cautionary slap on the hand. He merely laughed and leaned in closer to give her a short kiss on the cheek.

"I want _you_ to look at my money," she said as she played with his hair.

"Why?"

Because she was planning something. Something precious that she didn't want to share yet. It's stupid, she knows, but she feels like if she tells anyone she'd jinx it. It's better to know all her options first before taking a course of action. The Lloyd way.

 _Stew first. Act later._

It's served her family well in the past. Millions of dollars can't be wrong.

"Nothing. I trust you, that's all. I also want to see which areas I can take some risk, make more investments. Increase my wealth. It's the kind of thing we rich snobs think about all the time."

His hand stilled which meant that he was suspicious.

"Rhonda, what's this really about?"

She had no need for his prying so she turned to give him a carefree smile. For effect, she flipped her long hair over a tanned shoulder. Throw him off scent. He almost groaned. She was so beautiful like this.

"Exactly what I said. I just need a good pair of eyes to look over my things. Come on, you'll be really doing a me solid."

His brown eyes narrow but he let it go. Rhonda breathed an inner sigh of relief.

"I'll do it. But what do I get in return?" he teased.

"Oh, you know…"

Naughtily, Rhonda's hand slid down his torso and they forgot all about stocks and portfolios.

…

"Where were you?" Eddy asked as she sauntered in the living room. He had come home from Paris earlier that day. Normally, he wouldn't care where his wife went but it was late. He expected her to be waiting for him to come home. Instead, an empty house greeted him when he arrived from the airport. Well, the staff was inside but they didn't count. He asked Vanessa, the housekeeper, where his wife was and the woman only shrugged.

"Madame doesn't tell me about her business," the old Puerto Rican lady said before going back to her duties. That was four hours ago. His wife walked in at exactly 11:05 pm with a breezy attitude.

"Oh, I was just out. Shopping," Rhonda replied, making her way up the stairs in long strides. He followed her.

"At 11pm?"

She sighed and spun around, one of her perfectly plucked brows arched. "Alright, fine, you got me. I wasn't shopping. I had a meeting with a firm."

He gazed up at her. At the top of the stairs, she looked formidable, her long legs accentuated by the height of the steps. He had always known she was a powerful woman and sometimes had even been scared of her but he wore the pants in this relationship. And he made damn sure she remembers that.

"Again, at 11? Which firm is this?"

Her lips tightened. "Why are you suddenly so interested?"

"I want to know what my wife is doing outside so late on a Sunday night," he said, getting increasingly irritated with her vague and evasive answers.

"It's none of your business."

He didn't like that. He rushed forward and closed the distance between them. Now, they were of equal height, staring eye to eye.

"You're my wife, it's my business," he said in a slow, low growl.

She leaned in, never taking her eyes off his.

"I don't ask you about yours don't butt in mine."

Her deep voice which was so sexy when they first started dating now sounded menacing. A pit in his stomach opened and a sneaking suspicion bubbled in his head.

"Are you cheating on me?" he asked. He was caught off guard by the question but now that the words were out there, he was sure he was right to ask.

She laughed bitterly before instantly turning sombre. "Isn't that your area of expertise, darling?"

He had never wanted to hit a woman more. She knew. She had found out. This was her way of getting back. Being spiteful. He was so careful. How could she kn–

No matter. Nobody bested Edward Smith. She was going to learn today. She turned to go but he grabbed her arm causing her to wince in pain and stay in place.

"Let me go!" she squeaked.

She squirmed but his grip was tight and a sick grin formed on his face.

"You didn't answer my question," he hissed.

He should have seen it coming but he didn't. Her hand made contact with his face with a loud stinging sound and his head whipped back at the assault. On instinct, he let go of her arm. As he cradled his slapped face in shock, she taunted, "How was your trip to Paris, sweetie? I bet you had a good time."

After which, she ran up the stairs and he heard a door slam.

Eddy got up to the second floor as fast as he could. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he noticed that the guest room door was closed. He marched down the hall and banged his fist against the wooden door. He heard frantic steps and movement of furniture on the other side. He twisted the knob but it was locked.

"Open the goddamned door, Rhonda!" he screamed, still erratically twiddling the door knob.

"Go to hell!"

He let out a yell of frustration. "I mean it. If you don't open this door, I will kick it open."

There was no sound for a brief moment. Then a challenge.

"Do it."

Edward's fury was bottomless. He went to the other side of the hallway before running into the door with his right shoulder out. His shoulder made contact with a sharp burst of pain but the door didn't budge.

"Fuck!" he cried out in agony.

The pain only fuelled his anger. Before he knew it, he was kicking at the door with such ferocity that the sounds echoed throughout the whole house.

"Open. the. fucking. door!"

His leg was raised ready to kick when Rhonda opened the door. Without the wood to catch his kick, he tumbled inside the room in a clumsy roll. He laid on the floor, his whole body hurting and paying for the stupid endeavour.

Above his face, Rhonda was peering at him. She had an impassive expression as if this kind of thing happened everyday.

"You just made a big mistake," he said.

It was humiliating to be on the floor. A loser in their fight. But he didn't care. He stood up slowly. She didn't help him. His knee was shot from kicking the door so much, his shoulder was starting to swell and his head felt woozy from the way it hit the floor when he fell.

"You…" he said, pointing a finger at her face.

He looked at his wife who had her arms crossed and her feet apart in a wide, defensive stance. In her eyes, he saw fear and defiance. The kind of expression she had when she defended him against his parents one dinner after they were not-so subtly hinting about his lack of direction. Rhonda shut them down with a speech of Edward's achievements and good qualities. After that, he held her hand under the table in gratitude.

The fall made him see clearer. He can't hit his wife. What was he thinking? Why would he let himself get so riled up? How could he hurt her further when he had already betrayed her?

He lowered his hand. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Rhonda tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

She didn't hear him. But it was still embarrassing having to repeat himself.

"I said I'm sorry."

She jerked back, stunned. Then her face softened. Her arms dropped to her sides. He breathed a sigh of relief as the fear left her eyes.

"I knew you weren't going to hit me," she whispered.

She was so fucking understanding. He stifled the prickle of emotion he felt.

"I was close," he admitted.

She shook her head. "You're not like that."

The words were there.

 _You're not your father…_

It was so painful. He felt like the scum of the earth. This woman believed in him and he screwed around on her. And she knew, God, she knew.

"I fucked up," he said, voice wobbling with emotion. Oh no, he was not going to cry. Not now. As the adrenaline rush died, his chest constricted. She wasn't going to forgive him. She'll cast him out. There was already weariness on her face.

Rhonda sighed, tucking her black hair behind an ear. She sat down at the edge of the bed, watching him.

"Yes. You did."

He really wanted to cry out. There was a sense of the end. Their five-year marriage crumbling around them. His mind suddenly played a condensed version of all the good times.

"How can I make it up to you?" he asked.

…

She was so tempted to say _'You can't'_ but the truth was she was just as despicable as he was. At least, now that she confronted him about it, he owned up to his mistakes but for the life of her, she couldn't tell him about Thaddeus. Because then they would be even. He cheated. She cheated. The quantity didn't matter. They were both adulterers. The shame that would appear only once in a while now suddenly filled her from head to toe.

"I don't know. Being around more often would be a start."

"Done," he said.

That made it even worse. His willingness to make it up to her made her want to vomit out of guilt. She didn't trust herself to speak. The silence was so awkward she looked around at anything but him.

"I think we should continue this discussion in the morning," she heard him suggest. She felt herself nod. Instead of glancing up at him, her eyes were trained on the ground. They need to buy a different carpet to go with this room, she thought to herself. The blue doesn't match the subtle pastel shades.

She heard him walk out with a sigh.

They were both tired for different reasons.

As he reached the door, he murmured, "Good night, Rhonda."

She looked up and their eyes met. His baby blues were begging for forgiveness. She turned away. The door shut close. She burst into tears. Mr. and Mrs. Smith's days were numbered.


	14. Budapest

**_Budapest, April 2013_**

"Bocsánat!" Rhonda exclaimed after she bumped into a lady wearing a trench coat. Instead of being offended and annoyed, the woman merely smiled and told her not to worry then went on her way. The world had started to tilt a little bit. It wasn't that Rhonda planned to be drunk at 3 in the afternoon. (Okay, tipsy, she convinced herself, not drunk.) But it was getting incredibly boring waiting for her mother and she is in Bortársaság after all. This was the place to get the best Hungarian wine.

So what if she'd been doing some tasting? It's fine. There was plenty of time to sober up before her mother arrives. Her mother, who was once again late, had insisted they meet here so she could select the wine list for an upcoming soiree. It had been a long while since they've spent some time together and she felt it was her familial duty, at least once a year, to show up for the torture of shopping with an incredibly picky woman.

A sleek black Mercedes pulled up in front of her and a woman who was an older, spitting image of Rhonda stepped out in a crisp, white Chanel suit and black Manolo Blahniks with a red swirl pattern on the side. Her mouth was on a permanent scowl and her eyes were shaded with some oversized sunglasses. She'd grown her hair longer than she had in years. Rhonda's gut immediately churned. Her mother and she could be mistaken for sisters.

"Hello, Rhonda," her cool voice greeted her daughter.

"Hello, mother. Late again as usual."

The older Lloyd frowned. "I told you that our flight was delayed."

Rhonda snorted. "I would be generous with my forgiveness if not for the fact this is probably the twelfth time you've done this. Please don't tell me to show up 2 hours early if you're not going to be here," she sighed.

Brooke Lloyd pulled up her sunglasses to the top of her head and gazed at her daughter, placing her hands on Rhonda's shoulders. "Well, yes. I apologise. It won't happen again."

She gave her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and a tight hug, not caring if her Chanel suit would have creases.

"You look thin. Have you been eating well?" she asked, as she clung to her daughter's arm. They started walking to one of the outlets.

Rhonda resisted the urge to roll her eyes but revelled in the warmth of her mother's concern. She had lost weight. Mostly from worrying about her marriage.

"I'm fine. Honest. Just trying on a new vegan diet."

"Well, you know I don't like it when you're too thin. You look better with more meat on your bones."

"Mom, I appreciate the concern but I'm really eating healthily."

Brooke sniffed. "If you say so."

They reached the front door and Brooke spoke to the man carrying boxes of wine. Rhonda took a look around. She was in this shop just earlier and had already bought a box that she asked to be sent to her hotel. Her weakness was white wine. Red gave her massive headaches.

"Dear, what do you think?"

Her mother held up a bottle of Günzer Ördögárok 2011. It was A dark, thick, flavourful wine that Rhonda remembered her mother served at one of her Christmas parties.

"I liked it. I mean, the last time you had it at the house. But I don't really like red so my tastes can't be trusted."

Her mother smiled, "I liked it too. Should we get several crates? I'll buy some Légli Chardonnay as well."

Brooke buying white wine was basically a bribe to get her daughter to attend the soiree. Rhonda knew this and saw what her mother was up to.

"No matter how many boxes of white wine you buy, I'm still not going to your party. My time of hanging out with stuffy, wealthy, old people has come to an end."

"Stuffy! They're our friends, Rhonda."

"Exactly, your friends. Yours and dad's. I don't make you spend time with my friends so please don't torture me."

Her mother ignored her and went back to talking to the man. A few moments later as Rhonda was reading a wine label, her mother came up behind her.

"You don't have to act like such a martyr. I only want to see you once in a while." Her tone had a subtle note of hurt.

Rhonda continued reading. "I know."

"You act as if spending time with me is the worst thing in the world," she continued.

"There are only a few less horrific things I could do with my time," Rhonda replied with a smile so that her mother would know she's joking.

That earned her a pat on the arm and a snort. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

"Giving me up for adoption would be a start."

"You're 27 and a brat. I doubt anyone would want to adopt you."

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," Rhonda sing-songed, putting an arm around her mom's shoulders.

"Oh, lucky me," she said flatly but leaned her head on her daughter's shoulder.

Rhonda laughed. Moments like these were far and few in between when it came to her mother and when they do happen, she cherished them. Her mother could be funny and a good sport once she lets herself go. When she wasn't surrounded by her cronies. She saw a glimpse of what her mother must have been like when she was younger. Full of spirit and untouched by protocol and propriety. They were more similar than she realised now that she had gotten older.

"I like your shoes by the way."

"Thank you. They're new. I like yours as well. Very comfortable-looking."

"Oh, this old thing?" Rhonda joked. She was wearing her old, grimy sneakers. It was a present from her mother when she was a teenager. It was still wearable but ancient.

"I do have good taste," Brooke said proudly.

"You do indeed," Rhonda replied. "Is there anything else you want to get?"

Her mother leaned in, her eyes narrowed. The man came back with a receipt. Her mother signed the invoice and gave her card. She turned to Rhonda, hand on her hip.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"Wine-tasting."

Brooke rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. "It's 3:30 pm!"

"I'm not drunk. You should drink with me."

Her mother sighed. She also had a weakness for alcohol so she understands. Her mother before her was an alcoholic. There was something in their makeup that made them susceptible.

"Later, first, we need to go to Herend. I want to pick up a few pieces for the new bedroom for our country house. And sober up, will you? I thought the flush on your face was from the sun."

They left the store not speaking to each other.

...

It was a short ride to Herend. Rhonda looked out of the window to watch the tall, neat, flat Hungarian houses they passed by as the car rolled on the Attila út. Brooke cast a worried glance at her daughter. There was a grim atmosphere. A stony silence had fallen over them. Their relationship had been on the mend since Rhonda had gotten married but they were still on shaky ground.

"Are you disappointed in me?" Rhonda asked, not bothering to look at her mother. Her daughter's hesitant voice sounded small against the interior of the large car.

Brooke froze. "What do you mean?"

"That I'm drunk."

"You're not drunk. And you haven't made a public nuisance of yourself, so no."

A slight pause.

"Did you ever wish I was different?"

That question shot a pang of pain through her heart. It saddened her whenever Rhonda was like this. She loved her daughter. If only she didn't compare herself to all the other children of their friends then maybe she wouldn't feel like she was coming up short all the time. Her daughter was intelligent, creative, courageous, generous and had the great ability to be empathetic and compassionate. Rare traits when it came to their set.

Her husband, however, didn't know how to handle such a child. Always under the assumption that Rhonda was irresponsible. Flighty.

She never approved of the marriage to the Smith boy but kept quiet since he looked like he made Rhonda happy. In the beginning, at least. Brooke knew better. Rhonda reminded her so much of herself that it was sometimes too painful to look. She was making the same mistakes but she had to figure it out on her own. After all, it took Brooke awhile to realise that Buckley was the man for her back in the day.

"Never, honey. No. If you were different, then you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be my Rhonda," she said gently, grasping her child's hand to let her know that her mother wouldn't abandon her this time.

Her daughter withdrew from the touch.

"You know, all the time, I wish you were born with another child. Someone who'll make you happy and proud. Some who's glad to socialise and go shopping for parties."

"You love socialising and shopping."

"Yeah but–"

"You've grown lonely, dear. That's all that happened."

Rhonda finally turned to look at her.

"It happened some time ago. You just never realised. Your father and I, we love spending our time with our friends. That's what brings us joy. We love throwing parties because we love seeing people happy, entertained, fed. You need something deeper. Something more meaningful. Your father and I already found that in each other. Once you've found your something, you wouldn't find our existence so shallow."

"You think I'm lonely and bitter?" she asked, doubtful and confused. Brooke wanted to soothe her furrowed brow.

"Lonely, yes. Bitter, maybe. But why?"

That stumped her daughter.

"I'm not…" her voice trailed off.

Brooke gazed at her knowingly. "You need to figure out why, dear. Before the sadness eats away at you. It won't do you any good to let this go on."

They had arrived and the driver stopped the car.

She had opened the car door when she realised her daughter wasn't moving.

"Rhonda, are you coming?"

Her little girl stared straight ahead, her brows still pulled to the middle in thought. "I– I don't, no… I'm not in the mood. I don't think–I think I'll go back to my hotel."

Brooke's heart went out to her. Her daughter needed some time to think. "Alright, I'll meet you at Blue Tomato, later?"

She nodded. Before Brooke could step out, she felt her daughter's hand on her arm. She stopped.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you."

Brooke smiled with a tiny shrug and squeezed her hand. "You're welcome, dear. If you get bored or change your mind, you can find me here. It'll be nice to add some ceramic pieces to your house."

With that, she stepped out of the car, feeling better than she had in years.

...

The Blue Tomato Pub was across the Danube and took nearly half an hour to get to. Rhonda was a little late but she considered it payback for what happened this afternoon. Her mother's words had gotten to her. She made a fool out of herself and she felt a little embarrassed about it.

Rhonda was thankful that there were so many people that there weren't going to be much conversation between them. She found her mother sitting prim and proper at the back, near the brick wall covered in framed photographs. She had changed into a simple peach chiffon shirt and a green pencil skirt. Her hair was loose and her face was bare of makeup. Rhonda hadn't bothered either, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a loose t-shirt.

Even without a stitch of it, her mother was beautiful. There was a pint of craft beer in her hand. Rhonda's brows shot up.

"Is this your idea of slumming it?" she asked, before sitting down.

"I will not be judged by someone wearing an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt."

Rhonda laughed and her mother smiled. The lines in her eyes were more apparent without concealer. She decided she liked her mom better like this.

"It's comfy. Besides, it's not even mine."

Brooke's eyes widened. Rhonda felt so stupid for opening her big fat mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, it was a gift from… Helga. As a joke birthday present. What I meant was that I didn't buy it."

"I see."

Under the pretence of glancing at the menu, she gauged her mother's reaction. She seemed willing to drop the subject. Thank God.

"Should we get the duck breast?"

"I already ordered that. I didn't know what you wanted so you can tell the waiter when he comes by."

"I want the goulash. And some Guinness."

A handsome waiter appeared by her side and her mother ordered for her in fluent Hungarian. No matter how many times she heard her mother speaking in a foreign tongue, it always amazed her. She knew so many languages. Six fluently and three with some basic knowledge, enough to get around. Brooke had said before that it kept her busy and allowed for more fun to be had overseas. Rhonda only knew French and some Italian she picked up in Rome. Compared to her mother, she was a lightweight.

Once done, she looked at her daughter.

"We didn't get to catch up earlier. Tell me how you've been."

She told her mother how she'd been spending her time, most of it was spent on working at the Helping Hand Foundation, a charity started by a Lloyd ancestor, and editing Helga's book. When Brooke asked for the plot, Rhonda stuck to her guns and kept mum. Her mother's book club have been reading Helga's books since she started getting published. It was a show of support for their most famous local author.

It was kind of odd how that was Helga's entrance to polite society. Surprisingly, she was so good at getting along with her mother's friends, entertaining them with stories, and forcing them to dance with her at functions. They loved having her around. Rhonda always thought it was because Helga came from humble beginnings and made all them rich folks feel good like they were doing something noble, philanthropic even, by socialising with her. If being an heiress to an electronics empire was considered humble. In their world, it probably is. But Rhonda knew better now, it was because Helga was delightfully charming when she wants to be.

An enigma. That's what one of her oldest friends was.

"What are your plans for this month?"

"Nadine and I were thinking of going to Spain. She wants to study some ecosystem there. She also has to write about it."

"You're going with her?"

Rhonda shrugged. "Why not? It'll be fun. You know Nadine, she hates writing. The exploring part, that's what she loves but recording it and putting it down on paper bores her. I was planning on helping her out."

Brooke sighed. "You know, you can take a page out of her book and do something with your doctorate."

Rhonda laughed. "My doctorate in art history? Are you serious?"

Her mother nodded.

"Why not? You can teach. Nadine teaches. At least you'll be able to put it to use."

Their food arrived and was set in front of them. Brooke thanked the waiter before glancing back at her daughter. Rhonda focused on demolishing her goulash, trying to ignore her mother.

"It'll be good for you. You love writing and travelling. It'll give you something to do."

"I hate children."

"You'll be teaching college students, Rhonda. Hardly toddlers."

"You seem to forget I was a college student not too long ago and I consider them children. Babies, in fact."

"That's an overstatement."

"I don't have any patience."

Brooke waved a hand. "You have great focus."

"Why are you pushing this?"

Her mother placed down her fork and explained. "I'm not pushing. I'm– what's the correct term? Strongly suggesting?"

Rhonda released an incredulous laugh. "You're impossible. Alright. Why are you strongly suggesting this? Between my time with the foundation, maintaining our family's financial portfolio, overseeing our foreign investments, and editing New York Times bestselling novels, there is not much left."

"You're exaggerating. You have plenty of time leftover. You hired a team for each responsibility you just mentioned except for being an editor."

Rhonda huffed "It's called delegating. I'll have too much on my plate if I do everything myself."

Reaching out to touch her daughter's hand, Brooke gave a small smile. "I just think it'll be good for you. Give you some roots. I'm not deciding it for you. Just putting it out there. Something to consider."

"I'm not teaching."

"Fine. How about writing a book?"

"About art history?"

Brooke shot her a look that said, "Duh?"

"I don't know…"

"You underestimate yourself, dear. Just think about it. Have some future plans."

This was rich. Coming from a woman who spent her days planning parties, going to the spa, and then having lunch with her friends at the country club. But instead of being snarky, this time, Rhonda held her tongue. Maybe her mother had good suggestions and she just didn't want to admit it.

"I'll think about it," she finally said.

Satisfied, Brooke nodded. She took another sip of her beer. Rhonda hated how even that, she did with such sophistication.

Rhonda burped in protest.

Brooke arched a brow.

"I can't picture it. I can't see you with a pint of beer."

"Is it really that shocking of a picture?"

"It makes you too human," the younger woman retorted.

"Beer? Me drinking beer?" she laughed, "It's that hard to believe that I was young once, dated, your father, by the way, went out to have fun, and drank beer? It's not an abstract concept, dear."

She smiled. "Tell me how you and daddy met again."

"You know the story," Brooke replied, trying to avoid a retelling.

"But I want to hear it again."

Brooke sighed. Then, she gulped down all of her alcohol as if trying to gain enough courage. Rhonda kept watching. It was amusing to see her always-poised mother distressed. She hated telling this story. Her father, on the other hand, loved it. When she was young, she wondered why her mother didn't like talking about her past. As she grew older, she came to realise why. Their love story painted her mother and her family as snobs.

"You've heard it so many times."

"Just one last time, please."

She released a loud breath, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. "Alright. Well, you know my father, your grandfather, Archibald Wellington, owned a textile company that we still own today. He was, our family was, extremely wealthy. You know how it is, our class is a tight-knit group that's hard to penetrate. I met your father when he was a waiter at a party. At first, I couldn't stand him. I thought to myself how dare this boy talk to me and flirt with me, he was supposed to be working!"

Rhonda knew what happened next but she always held her breath at this part of the story as if the outcome would change at every retelling.

"But the more time we spent with each other, the more I realised how much we had in common and I fell in love with him. Father found out, wasn't pleased with my dalliance with the hired help, and I was banned from seeing him. It didn't matter that the Lloyds used to be a prominent family. You father's father blew it by spending everything on his gambling addiction. They had fallen from grace. Scared, I listened to my father and never saw the young waiter again. Years pass, the waiter and I didn't see each other. My father's business started to lose money. Karma, I guess. It was hit during a recession. To refill the family coffers, my parents started arranging a union between me and Nathan Wexley, an heir to an oil empire. It was quite common at the time."

There was a growing pit in Rhonda's stomach. She always hated that part.

"Desperate for advice, my father sought help from a stock broker who was also a financial analyst. Little did he realise this was the same man he banned me from seeing years before. Buckley helped my father and kept quiet when he saw me. He didn't want to lose the account, I guess. We would pass each other at parties and around the house without speaking. I was about to be married to Nathan in three weeks. One day, I was swimming in our pool. When I came out of the water, he was at the side, holding a towel out. I took the towel, thanked him, and wrapped myself with the cloth. That's when I heard him say something. It was soft but I heard it. I'll never forget it. Your father said, 'Don't marry him.' I turned to him and laughed. The nerve. Like his opinion on the subject mattered. Just as I was about to leave, he continued. 'I don't have much, Brooke. You know that. But I have something he can't give you.'"

This was the best part, Rhonda loved this part.

"'What's that?' I asked him. He was quiet for a long while and I was getting cold. When he saw that I was about to leave again he yelled out, 'Love. I can give you love. If that's not enough then I don't know anymore.' A week later we eloped, it made my father so angry he didn't speak to me for three years despite that fact that Buckley helped him regain his business. I want to say I didn't care about my parents' reaction but the truth was that it hurt. I don't regret my decision. I loved your father, I still do. Even if he makes me so angry sometimes."

Rhonda had never heard that. Since it was always her dad who told the story and it was always from his point of view. Her mother's version was more concise, without any rose-colored glasses.

"But losing my family over him was painful. I could tell he knew and it made him feel guilty. Like he took me away from them even though I went with him willingly. But then a miracle happened. You came along and your grandmother wanted to see you. Then, as we were walking out of the house, my father came home earlier than usual. He saw you and he fell in love. He cried and apologised. Then, he held you and didn't let you go until it was late and I told him we had to go home or Buckley will be worried."

It was kind of heartbreaking how Rhonda was reminded of how her grandpa Archie didn't want her at first.

"I should stop. I think I've said too much."

"No. I loved it. I only get to hear daddy tell the story. It was refreshing to hear it from you."

Brooke smiled. "It all turned out well in the end. Your grandfather and Buckley patched up in the end to the point that he inherited the company."

"It's kind of weird how it wasn't given to you."

"He said it was punishment for marrying a waiter."

Rhonda laughed.

"There was a condition that if he cheated on me or left me, the company would fall back into my hands and he gets nothing."

The young woman snorted. "As if dad would do something like that. He thinks the sun shines out of your ass."

"Language."

"Really, though. It's kind of amazing how much he's still in love with you. Not to mention disgusting."

Brooke smiled. "You sound jealous."

"Just baffled. And grateful, really. Your marriage is proof that this crazy institution might work."

"Touched, dear, truly," Brooke replied. Rhonda learned her cutting sarcasm from the best.

The returned back to their meal. Her mother probably regretting that she shared too much. Brooke was a private person who didn't like to talk about personal issues.

"I saw Thaddeus the other day," Brooke casually mentioned.

Rhonda looked up. "Uh, where?"

"Hillwood. At a function. Some new art museum opening. He looked well."

Rhonda swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Yeah, he runs. He's been running since high school."

"Are you still friendly?"

She chose her words carefully. "We keep in touch but we're not that close."

"I've always liked that boy."

That was new. Rhonda still didn't say anything.

"The way he took care of you in Rome. You remember. Letting you stay at his grandparents' house."

Rhonda wanted to mention that the house belonged to him already but thought it unwise to do so.

"Yeah. He's nice."

"Good-looking too. Shame you didn't end up with him."

Just like that, her breath was stolen. She stilled, feeling dizzy all of a sudden.

"Dear, is something wrong?"

She managed a smile and reach for her beer which she effectively knocked off the table. It shattered into pieces after hitting the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry! I'll help you clean it up," she told the waiter who immediately rushed over. The man assured her it was alright and proceeded to sweep the fragments away.

Her mother, meanwhile, ordered another pint for her daughter from another waiter and apologised for the mess.

"Do try to be a little more careful," Brooke chided.

"Sorry, you know how my clumsiness sometimes gets the better of me."

"Now, what were we talking about? Oh yes! Thaddeus. Well, I couldn't believe it. He told me that he's the new head of the Chicago branch of…"

Rhonda tried her best to pretend it was all new information while her mother's previous words bounced inside her brain.

 _Shame you didn't end up with him._

 _Shame you didn't end up with him._

 _Shame you didn't end up with him._

 _..._

Rhonda reached her hotel at half past 11. Her mother was staying at an old friend from university's place. She said that Anna and she had a lot of catching up to do. She threw her bag on the bed and plopped down on the mattress. The city lights cast glorious shadows on the walls.

She had never been afraid of the dark. An odd thing for a child. But Rhonda, as a young girl, loved the privacy of the dark. She could imagine new worlds and scenarios, things that couldn't possibly happen in real life. She let out a loud sigh. A punctuation of her ever-increasing loneliness.

The tears didn't come tonight.

Before she knew it, she had dialled a number.

"Is there an open spot in your art history department?"

"What? Who is–Rhonda, is that you? It's 5:30 in the morning here!"

"So, is there?"

"You're crazy," her best friend replied. "But I'll check for you. How's Budapest and your mother? We're going to the spa next week."

Rhonda found it odd how her mother was friendly with nearly all of her closest friends.

"Sometimes, it feels like you hang out with her more than me."

She could almost see the shrug of Nadine's narrow shoulders. "She treats me like another daughter. And the perks? I get to eat at the Mandarin Oriental anytime I want."

"Leech."

Her best friend laughed.

"So, teaching? Art history, I presume."

"Yeah. Your best friend forever and Mandarin Oriental meal ticket suggested it."

"Really?"

Rhonda got up to get an Evian from the minibar.

"Hard to believe, right? She's thinking it might give me some direction. As if I'm not being pulled in every single way already with all that I have to do. And don't I have to take a teaching course first?"

"Yeah but it'll be quick. I'll make queries. Oh my God, if this comes through, we get to work together! Yay!"

"We won't be in the same faculty."

"What I meant by that is that we get to have lunch together and I get to see you more often. Rhode Island's kind of far from Hillwood though. Have you asked Eddy about this?"

He wouldn't care.

"Not yet. But he'll probably think it's great."

"Hmm, well, I'll get back to you. Thanks for waking me up. I have a class in three hours. We're still up for Spain, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."


	15. Hillwood III

**_Hillwood, July 2009_**

Thaddeus Gammelthorpe accepted your friend request.

Rhonda sucked in a huge amount of air as her hand hovered over her Macbook's keyboard. She was so sure he'd just ignore it. Should she post something on his wall? Poke him? Sending him the present was her version of a Hail Mary pass. Out of sheer desperation, she had finally contacted him. It was a little overboard to give him an expensive gift but maybe he would understand the sentiment behind it. Graduation. The future.

 _Put your best foot forward._

 _Run to me…_

She was beginning to sound delusional. She sighed, close to clicking the tab away.

But what did she want? Closure? Acknowledgment? She wasn't so sure.

Lately, though, she's had an overwhelming urge to see him. To talk to him and find out what happened. Get close. It was so stupid but the thought made her feel giddy and high. What would it be like to capture what they had in Rome? Could they re-create the magic? Since romance didn't work for them, why not friendship? They were good at that. Nobody had ever understood her so well. Even her flaws. He knew they existed, sure, but he understood it was a part of her. Something to work on. He knew why she was the way she was. And she understood him as well. She even predicted the fallout.

Her index tapped against the laptop's palmrest.

This was such a risk.

All she was sure of, deep in her heart, was that she wanted to see him again. Maybe this time, she would. She smiled as she clicked on his profile. _What have you been up to, Curly?_

…

It had been a miserable week in Hillwood. All day it rained and downtown was flooded preventing any opportunities to go out. On Saturday night, she's decided she's had it. After telling her parents she was going for a ride, she swiped the keys of her father's Camaro and cruised. It had started to pour again so she turned on the wipers. The water dripped down the sides of her car and she slowed down just to be safe. It was so relaxing just listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the car roof. There weren't many people about due to the weather and the late hour.

The rain brought the cold with it. At least one good thing came out of this dreary weather, she got to wear her cute winter gear– a grey cashmere sweater, black leather jacket, and khaki-coloured skinny pants. She topped it off with her waterproof boots and a swipe of lip gloss. It was probably too extravagant for an outing to the supermarket, but why not?

Rhonda parked the car in front of the 24-hour store, a branch by one of those big chains. She grabbed the black umbrella her father kept in the glove box. The rain and the wind had gotten stronger. Water whipped against her face at such high speeds that it stung. She spat out the rain in her mouth.

"Dear God."

She ran across the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief once she was in the store. The white fluorescent light momentarily blinded her and the air-conditioning unit blasted cold air at her moist skin. It was freezing. Her teeth were chattering by the time she was in the dairy section. She made a quick sweep of the big tubs of Yoplait–vanilla, cherry cheesecake, lemon meringue, Boston creme pie before she dumped them in a basket. The sooner she got out of there, the better. As she passed through the aisles, her black umbrella left a trail of slippery sheen on the tile floor.

The only other person at the store was the cashier. A teenager with long, dark shaggy hair. Tall and lanky, looking either extremely bored or sleepy. He perked up once he saw her coming towards him. He had great, high cheekbones and a mouth that was made for pouting.

"Hey," he greeted. "Good evening."

"Good evening. Just these," she said, setting the basket down.

The teenager smiled at her. It was slightly askew but instead of looking wrong it added character to his face. _In about five years, women would flock him_ , Rhonda thought, seeing the potential. He reminded her of someone.

"How are you this evening, miss?" he asked.

Miss? What teenager talks like that?

"Uh, fine, I guess," she answered uncertainly. "Are you the only one here?"

He nodded. She was suddenly concerned for him. Being a cashier on the night shift was dangerous. Most robberies happened at this hour. Even though Hillwood was fairly safe, it was still risky to leave a teenager in charge of a shop at this time. What was the manager thinking?

"Aren't you scared?"

"Me? Pssh, no," he replied, scanning the products.

"It's kind of dangerous to be the only one here at night."

He winked. "Someone has to do it."

 _Oh boy._ This teenager was trouble. One that she would have dated back in high school.

"You're really cute," she said. Maybe boosting a kid's self-esteem was the least she could do.

"Oh yeah?"

"But you're also really young. What are you, sixteen?"

He pouted. Rhonda noted he looked adorable, like a lost puppy. "I turned seventeen last month."

"That must have been one heck of a party. You're still underage though."

He stopped scanning and peered at her. "How old are you?"

"Guess."

"Uh, twenty-five."

This kid thought she was twenty-five? Did she look that old? Or was it the way she talked to him? She had been kind of condescending.

She shook her head. "I'm twenty-two."

He grinned. "Cool." He had bagged her groceries. She handed him her card and was about to leave when he asked, "Hey, do you want to…? I don't know, go out sometime?"

She laughed. "I don't want to get charged for statutory, so no. I'm gonna take a pass."

The boy ran a hand through his hair and shot her a saucy smile. "It's not like anyone has to know."

"My advice would be to ask out someone your own age. You may be surprised."

"Or disappointed," he muttered under his breath.

She set down her plastic bag on the counter. "Why's that?"

For a moment, he hesitated then figuring out he had nothing to lose by telling a stranger, he shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm not exactly at the top of the popularity food chain in my high school."

Rhonda snorted. "The food chain's bullshit. Trust someone who was at the top for four years. You're gorgeous even if they haven't noticed yet. If you like a girl, just ask her out. Simple as that. She'll most likely say yes."

The boy narrowed his gaze. "You were popular?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Rhonda asked flatly.

"No. It's the natural conclusion after looking at a bombshell like you. I'm just trying to place you."

His compliment earned him another laugh from her. She was flattered even though he was just a kid.

"D'you go to Hillwood High?"

"Yeah."

Rhonda flashed her cool girl smile. "I'm Rhonda Lloyd."

Teenage boy's eyes widened to the point that they were close to popping out of his head. His jaw went slack then he let out some sort of celebratory yelp. "Dude! You're a legend! I mean, they still talk about you. You're like one of the coolest alumni we have. There's like a ton of photos of you in a cheerleading uniform on the display cabinets."

She shrugged. High school seemed like a lifetime away. Plus, those photos on display seemed kind of pervy. Who authorised that? She knew she didn't.

"It's been nice meeting you. Remember my pro-tip," she said, tapping a finger on the side of her temple.

He nodded enthusiastically. She was glad she still had this effect on people.

"Oh, and do something about that hair. If you get a decent haircut, the girls will pay attention. Trust me."

He smiled at her. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The boy glanced down before meeting her eyes and blushed. "You're really cool."

"Don't sweat it," she winked. "See ya and stay safe."

Rhonda didn't notice how the lovelorn adolescent watched her through the shop glass window as she braved the rain to reach her car.

"Why can't all girls be like her?" he sighed and then went back to reading the new Deadpool.

…

It was an embarrassing accident. She'd always been a careful driver but somehow, either it was the rain or the dark, she didn't notice the massive pothole until her engine had slurped the flood water. Her car made a horrible gurgling sound.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbled, hitting the steering wheel with her palms.

The Camaro had halted in front of a row of townhouses. Brick walls with tiny windows. They looked identical in the night. Phoebe used to live in this neighbourhood, she remembered. Rhonda's old house was near here too. She glanced at the plastic bag of yogurt with disdain.

"Stupid."

Maybe if she took a chance starting the engine again. Nothing. Dead. Her father was going to kill her. He loved this old car.

Fat droplets hit her as soon as she opened the door. She was soaked in seconds. The cold seeped into her bones. It was hard to see as the water hit her eyes. She pressed a hand to her forehead to shield them. What was she thinking? If she opened up the hood, it'll get wet, and she didn't know a thing about cars.

 _Think, Rhonda, think._

"Hey, are you alright?"

She turned to the source of the voice. There was a tall dark figure a short distance from her. It was hard to make out a face under the dim streetlights.

"Uh, I'm fine. My car, it's not starting…"

What was she doing, giving him information like that? Fear was starting to creep in. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and blood pounded in her ears. She could outrun this man, can't she? She could call for help. It's a residential area. Someone would respond. She was getting ready to bolt when he called out her name.

"Rhonda?"

That voice was familiar. Her eyes squinted. The man came closer. His face came to light and she inhaled the crisp air. She let her hand drop and the rain immediately coated her lashes. It stung her eyes.

"Curly?"

Even with the heavy downpour drowning out almost everything, she heard him sigh. "Yeah. It's Thaddeus," he corrected. "Rhonda, what are you doing here?

It couldn't be. He was supposed to be in Chicago. What was he doing here? But there he was, holding an umbrella, wide eyes peering through his black-rimmed glasses, floppy hair that hadn't been cut sticking out of his head. He was more built than the last time she saw him, wider. His arms bulged through his brown t-shirt. The hem of his jeans had been stained dark by the mud.

"M-my c-c-car. It won't start."

He stared at her. She realised that she was shaking. Awesome, now she might catch hypothermia. This night was just getting better and better.

"You're cold," he said, coming closer with his umbrella. She instantly felt warmer. Thaddeus was looking down at her with those glowing mocha eyes. He was close enough that she could see his thick lashes. Every breath he took created a fog of smoke. She focused on his the flecks of gold in her eyes.

"My car broke down. I didn't see the pothole. It must have sucked in water."

"Did you try to start the car again?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't have done that. Your car's toast now."

"It's actually my dad's."

 _This is surreal._

She could help the joy spreading through her. They were talking again, like it was normal. Like the past three years didn't happen.

"He's not going to be happy."

"Oh, I know."

His eyes were still on her. She regained her senses. They haven't truly talked in years. This was a different person than the one she knew before. This Thaddeus seemed more lethal. Dangerous. No nonsense.

"I'll call a cab. I'll have the car towed tomorrow," she said.

He didn't reply immediately. He had a slight familiar frown, one that he wore when he was considering things.

"It's past midnight and it's raining buckets. I doubt anyone wants to drive you up to the mountains. It's going to take at least forty minutes in this weather."

"Then what do you suppose I do?" she asked.

"Come inside."

"What?"

He pointed at one of the flats. "My house. Or rather, my parents' house."

"It's fine. I don't want to imp–"

"It won't be any trouble. Come on, you're freezing."

She glanced down at her hands. Her nails were turning blue. The wind had picked up again. She shivered and he sidled up closer to her.

"Wait, I need to get my things."

Rhonda opened the car and grabbed the yogurt and her wallet. Upon seeing what's in her bag, his brows shot up.

"This is why you're out at night?"

She glared at him. "Let's just get inside like you said."

"Whatever."

They walked up his steps and stopped in front of a white front door. He pulled out his keys and she took the umbrella from his hands.

"Didn't know you live here," she said.

"Yeah, we moved after high school," he replied.

The door opened with a click. She walked in ahead of him, her steps echoing against the dark hardwood floors. Soft, yellow light illuminated a small but well-decorated living room. It was so nice to be toasty again. Rhonda deliberately stayed off the carpet, conscious of the fact that she dripped wherever she went.

"Thaddeus! Is that you?" a voice came from a room down the hall.

"Yeah," he yelled back. "It's me, ma. I have someone with me."

"Who is it?" the voice asked. Then a head popped out of one of the doors. It was a woman with thick dark hair and red-rimmed glasses. There was a delicateness to her bone structure. She was a petite lady, the kind that Rhonda envied, having been the giant in every class she was in since the fourth grade. The woman had flawless olive skin and recognisable wide eyes with laugh lines, so similar to her son's. It widened with alarm when it landed on her.

"Oh, hello!"

Rhonda gave a small smile back and raised her hand in greeting. "Hi."

Thaddeus' mother came out of the room. She was wearing a thick maroon robe cinched and tied at the waist.

"This is Rhonda. Rhonda, this is my mom, Allegra."

Allegra gave her son a pat on the arm. "Of course, I know who this is. Good evening, Rhonda." She shot her son a knowing smile and if Rhonda wasn't imagining it, she could have sworn she saw him blush. But he grabbed her bag of yogurt and rushed through the door his mother came out of.

"I'll put this in the fridge!" Rhonda heard him yell out.

The older woman smiled at her. She walked over to where Rhonda was standing. Then leaned in, as if she was going to share a secret.

"We've met before. At your high school, you remember? My son won 1st place that day."

Rhonda noticed the hint of pride in her voice. She remembered. Allegra was talking about the track meet a few years back when Hillwood High won. For relay and sprint. "Yes, of course. How could I forget? That event was what everyone talked about for days."

Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, just 16, had set a district record for 400-metre sprint. It was the first time their school had placed. It even got the attention of the local paper. The scrawny sophomore was suddenly noticeable. By the end of the week, his name was on people's lips.

"Would it be alright if I use your phone? I left my cell phone at home. I'm actually here because my car broke down just outside your house."

Rhonda pointed her father's Camaro through the window. Curly's mother leaned towards the glass to get a closer look.

She squinted and said, "What a strange coincidence."

Then she stepped back, tilting her head towards the living room.

"Telephone, yes, of course. It's right by the tv." Allegra's mocha eyes inspected her. "Oh dear, you're wet."

"It's fine," Rhonda tried to reassure her. "Mrs. Gammelthorpe."

"Allegra will do. You must be cold. I'll get some clothes for you while you make your phone call."

"It's really fine…" the words died on her lips as Allegra disappeared upstairs. She was surprisingly quick for such a short woman.

The Gammelthorpes' living room was painted sunny yellow while the couches were deep blue. The tables, the chairs, the vases were all white. She immediately loved the coziness of the space. Their house phone did sit on a side table near the tv. With trembling hands, it was still bloody freezing, she quickly punched in the number. The phone rang for a while.

"Lloyd residence, Langley speaking," an old, rusty voice answered.

"Hey, Langley."

"Miss Rhonda?" their butler guessed.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, long story short, I went out to buy something. I took dad's Camaro. And the flood's worse here than I thought. His car broke down after I sunk it in a pothole."

She glanced around the room and saw Thaddeus' diploma on the wall. "I'm still in town. I'm staying at a friend's house."

"Would you like me to send someone for you?"

Allegra entered the living room with a set of pyjamas and a towel. "You can spend the night here," she softly mouthed. Rhonda smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," she said while placing a hand on the phone's speaker.

The older woman waved her hand as if to say it was no big deal before setting the clothes down on the sofa and disappearing again.

"In the morning. It's quite late and I'm fine. I don't want to trouble anyone so I'm going to just spend the night here. If you can call for a tow truck to get daddy's car tomorrow, that'll be great… And let me break the news to him, he's not going to be happy about this."

She gave Langley the address.

"I see, madam. Well, good night and be safe."

"Thank you, Langley. Have a good night as well."

Rhonda hung up the phone and collected the clothes. There were voices down the hall. She followed the sound and ended up at the archway entrance of a huge rustic kitchen. Thaddeus was in front of a counter speaking in rapid Italian to his mother. Allegra sat by a small breakfast table, nodding. Then, she said something that made him quiet.

"Hey," Rhonda greeted, warning them of her arrival.

Mother and son both looked up. Allegra gave her a warm smile, Thaddeus, not so much. She started to stand up.

"Thanks for the clothes. I just called home. I told them I'll be back in the morning."

Unsure of herself, she leaned against the archway to seem more relaxed. Even if Thaddeus was suddenly being cold, at least his mother liked her.

"No problem, dear. You can have a warm bath upstairs. Come down after and join me for some hot cocoa to warm your bones. Thaddeus is making some."

Only then did she noticed there was a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. Thaddeus stirred it as he added more milk. He was avoiding looking at her.

"You can have some if you want," he said, shrugging his wide shoulders. His mother shot his back a dirty look.

"Go on and wash away the rain from your hair. You'll have a cup waiting for you," she said.

Rhonda sensed the tension and was thankful to be dismissed. She followed Allegra's instruction and went up the stairs, passing by framed family photos hanging on the walls. The toilet was just beside the top stair. She flipped the switch and was visually assaulted by the bright, starkness of white. The porcelain gleamed. Allegra Gammelthorpe was a neat-freak. She looked around. The bathroom was small and functional with a bathtub and a shower. Rhonda chose the shower since it was faster. After savouring the splash of warm water, she cleaned herself up with a floral scented soap and minty shampoo. There was no hairdryer so she towel dried and put on the black and white pinstriped pyjamas. She draped the towel over her shoulder and left her long hair down to dry.

She folded her wet clothes and placed them in a plastic bag she found in one of the cupboards. Hopefully, she could run her clothes through a dryer before she left since she was naked under the pyjamas. Her Victoria's Secret underwear had gotten waterlogged as well. It made her slightly self-conscious to be so exposed.

With careful steps, she made her way downstairs, passing by the living room and noticing an old clock. The hands pointed 12:45. She yawned. It was getting late. She proceeded to the kitchen. Just like she said, Allegra was waiting for her by the wooden table with two mugs of cocoa in front of her.

"Feel better?" She sipped on her drink as she watched Rhonda sit down across her. She held out a hand to gesture at the younger girl's cup.

"Yes. I do. Thank you so much for your hospitality." She explained, "I feel really stupid about what happened tonight."

Rhonda placed the bag of her dirty laundry under the table. She rubbed her hair with the towel.

"Think nothing of it. Thaddeus is preparing his room. You'll be sleeping there and he'll be sleeping on the couch."

"Oh, I can sleep on the couch," she shrugged.

She really didn't mind.

"Nonsense, you're a guest. We don't have a guest bedroom so his room is the next best thing. It's fine, please. Make yourself feel at home. We promise we're not a family of vampires out to get you in your sleep."

Rhonda let out a small laugh.

"Okay."

"My husband's on a camping trip. He's at Lake... Oh, I've forgotten the name. So it's just me and my son. I've asked him to check the door. Sometimes the crevice at the bottom lets water in during stormy weather. Thaddeus must have seen you then."

"Thank you for inviting me in anyway."

Allegra just smiled.

They settled into a comfortable silence. Only the tick tock of the living room clock, the pitter patter of the rain and the sips of cocoa breaking the monotony. Allegra was so nice to her. Compassionate. A trait passed on to her son. However, unlike her, her son who was often resistant to being helpful in fear of coming across as soft-hearted.

"It's so nice to finally meet you. Again. You know?"

"Huh? I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Rhonda asked, lost.

Allegra linked her fingers around her brown mug. It said ' _Coffee makes me poop'_ in white lettering which Rhonda thought was hilarious.

"Nothing. Well, actually… I know quite a bit about you through my son."

Her wide eyes twinkled in amusement.

"I see."

Allegra realised what that could imply. "Please don't be alarmed. It's just–when he was in middle school, he talked about you. A lot. Every day after school, he would come home with a different story about you. Rhonda this and Rhonda that."

The older woman laughed. It was a delicate sound. "He would even pick his clothes on whether he thinks you'll like them or not."

Rhonda tried her best not to wince. She wasn't the best person in middle school. Or high school, for that matter. She especially haven't been kind to Thaddeus back then. But he took countless rejections like a champ. At least, until the summer after freshmen year. He changed. After that, he didn't take her shit anymore. She would insult him and he would hit back with a remark that was far cutting than anything she ever came up with. It sort of changed her life. By the end of the year, they weren't on speaking terms. Or it they were, it was to bare their fangs at each other.

"I bet the stories stopped in high school."

With a smirk, Allegra shook her head. "They didn't. They just became negative."

Rhonda nodded in understanding. "I see. We sort of became enemies then."

Outside, the wind roared. The branches hit against the kitchen windows' glass panes.

"My boy can be quite sensitive," Allegra said.

Rhonda thought about dodgeballs, PS118, and Principal Wartz office. "Yeah, kind of."

"Hmm, and jealous," Allegra continued, closing her eyes for a while.

"Jealous?"

The Italian woman gave her a knowing stare. "I believe it's in high school when you had your first serious boyfriend? What's his name? Brett? Garrett?"

Rhonda's face heated up at the realisation this woman knew way too much of her past. "Chet."

"Yup. That's the one. Oh boy, did I hear a lot about Chet."

"Uh…"

Allegra laughed. "It's alright, honey. No need to get embarrassed. I just want to thank you."

Confused again, she tilted her head, letting the damp towel drop from her hands. "For what exactly?"

"For putting my boy in his place."

Somehow, Rhonda figured that any other mother would be angry at her for rejecting their son but Allegra Gammelthorpe was unique. A puzzle, even. She was a bit of an eccentric. Like her son. Same wild spark.

"And for taking care of him in Italy."

There it was. So she knew. Thaddeus shared it with her. But how much did she know? Did she know about… Rhonda stopped herself. No use making assumptions.

"Thaddeus was close to his grandmother. The news hit us both pretty hard. You know, when I call home, my Uncle Alfredo still asks about you."

Alfredo. She missed that man, his good humour and food.

"Alfredo was the best. About Thad, I didn't know he was going through a tough time," Rhonda said softly. "He never said anything at first. Only when I confronted him. Thaddeus is, well, how do I put it?"

Allegra let her go on.

"Like you said, sensitive. I think he's quite special, you know?" Rhonda said then let out an embarrassed laugh. Allegra kept quiet but something in her eyes softened. "I mean, you've raised him well. He's smart. And nice. At least when he chooses to be." She mumbled the last part under her breath but Allegra caught and she hollered in laughter.

"Yeah, most of the time my son's a dick. You don't have to sugarcoat it, honey."

Rhonda laughed as well.

"We're all getting along here, aren't we?" a sarcastic voice cut through the laughter. Just like that, Rhonda felt the temperature in the room drop. Thaddeus didn't seem to want her in his home. He was wary. On his guard. She sensed it.

She wanted to knock him upside the head. How dare he act like this when he's the one who invited her inside? Or the one who didn't call?

 _Are you even listening to yourself? Stop it. You sound extremely bitter. It was three years ago._

Rhonda bit her lip. Allegra turned to her son standing in the doorway. If looks could kill, he would have been decapitated by his mother's laser glare.

"Don't be rude."

"Sorry, ma," he quickly apologised and shot Rhonda a look dripping in icicles when his mother wasn't looking. He fetched himself a cup of cocoa and leaned against the counter far away from his mother and their new guest.

Her cool-girl glare had never been so quickly turned on someone. She let it pierce him. Imagining that she was carving his face with her eyes. He glared at her right back. Brown fighting Hazel. It was a close match.

Allegra whipped back to Rhonda, the young girl quickly pasted a bright smile on her face. "Would you like to go to bed now? Your room's ready."

"My room, you mean," Thaddeus muttered under his breath. His mother ignored him.

"Sure," Rhonda replied in a chirpy tone sure to piss off Thaddeus. "But I have some wet clothes here. Could I maybe use your dryer?"

"Of course. You can just toss them in the machine. It's in our basement. Thaddeus can show you." She, once again, turned to her son. "Be a dear and help Rhonda out, will you?"

"My pleasure." It sounded sincere except for the fact that he said it through gritted teeth and his right eye twitched slightly. "Come on. It's this way."

"Good night, dear!" his mother called out.

"Good night," she replied.

He walked fast and she almost lost him if it weren't for his loud steps. The stairs to the basement was behind a door attached to the upper staircase. It was pitch black until Thaddeus hit a switch. The lights flickered on with an electric whirr. Upon coming down, Rhonda realised that their basement was probably the least loved space of the house. It wasn't decorated or worked on like the rest of the rooms she'd been in. The floor was linoleum and the walls were lined up with washing machines and dryers. Some of them were big, industrial and painted a bright blue. She remembered how his family used to own a dry-cleaning shop.

She watched him popped open one of the grey ones then he held out an expectant hand.

"I can do it myself."

"Suit yourself. I just thought the princess might be more comfortable with letting commoners do the dirty work."

He let his hand drop and backed away. Rhonda stepped over. She gave him a bitter smile. His arms were folded and an amused expression stretched across his face.

"You said it wouldn't be much trouble to have me here. Why are you suddenly acting obnoxious and irritated?"

He shrugged, "Maybe I changed my mind. It's been known to happen."

Or maybe his mother told him something that upset him.

It was his turn to watch her. She didn't dump everything in one go. Instead, she felt for the cups of her bra and then pulled it out of the bag, letting the strap dangle on her finger. He wasn't so unaffected now. She noted with satisfaction how his face fell and his Adam's apple bobbed. Next, she did the same thing with her lace panties. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.

"I'll wait for you upstairs. To start the cycle, just press that blue rectangular button," he said in a strangled voice.

Then he fled. Once he was gone, Rhonda stuffed her clothes and the towel in the machine. "Chicken," she said under her breath.

…

After her clothes had started to spin, she went upstairs where sure enough, he was waiting for her. He still looked pissed but now more reserved. He leaned against the wall opposite the basement door.

"I'll show you to your room."

"Don't you mean _your_ room?" she said, throwing his earlier words at him.

He let it roll off him, rose from the wall in a lazy, cat-like manner, and brushed past her to the staircase with quick steps. They went past the bathroom she used earlier and a door that she could only assume was his parents' room. There was a sliver of light at the bottom. Allegra was probably getting ready for bed as well. At the end of the hallway was a black door. He opened it for her and she marched past him then dive-bombed the bed. It was soft, covered with a black comforter. She stared at the light grey ceiling with a smile. Her arms outstretched, caressing the comforter.

"Could you be more careful? This isn't your room. If you break anything, I'll have to fix it," she heard him say. He sounded like a nagging aunt.

"You're such a dork. It's mine now. That's what your mom said." She rolled around just to drive the point home.

"Only for tonight," he reminded her.

She sat up. He was looking at her weirdly. Then she realised, this was the first time that she had ever been in his room, on his bed. His face flushed red again.

"I'm heading downstairs. Good night," he said quickly.

"Wait!"

He huffed. "What?"

"Are you sleeping on the sofa?"

"Yeah?" he said in a way that illustrated ' _and_ _your point is?'_

"You're too tall for the sofa downstairs."

His eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

 _Because I know every inch of your body and am perfectly aware that you're extremely tall._

She rolled her eyes. "I saw the sofa."

He waved an impatient hand, turning away again. "I'll sleep on the living room floor. Good night, Rhonda."

"W-w-w-wait! Damn it. Come back."

"What?" he whipped his head back towards her and whispered harshly.

Rhonda felt so stupid to even suggest this. The warning bells in her head were ringing. They got shriller and shriller. But she ignored them.

"Sleep here instead."

He stilled then cocked his head at her. He looked like he was either about to throw up or throttle her. "With you?"

As if the concept was totally horrendous. Rhonda squelched down the hurt. Control. Total and utter control.

 _Don't be stupid and brash, Rhonda. You got hurt the last time._

She pasted on her winning smile. "Nah. I'll sleep downstairs. This is your room."

He shook his head and scowled.

"Ma, wouldn't like that. Besides, _I_ wouldn't like that. I might as well just throw you out in the rain too if I let you sleep downstairs."

There were times when he could be sweet or utterly infuriating. Rhonda didn't know which category this moment belonged to.

"And _I_ am not comfortable with kicking you out of your room and making you sleep on the sofa. So, I propose a compromise. You get one-half, I get one-half."

The thought of having the power to throw him out of his own bed reminded her of a wife. The thought of sharing a bed with him reminded her of having a husband. She can't win.

"One-half of the bed?"

"For a man who graduated from Stanford, you sure are _purty_ slow," she drawled the last part in an accent reminiscent of Stinky's.

He frowned before shooting her a derisive grin.

"At least I didn't get an art history degree. I heard Starbucks is hiring this time of the year. You might get lucky."

"Ohhh, burn. A Starbucks joke. Sooo original. So, what's it going to be, big boy?"

He could decide. This was the only ultimatum she'll throw at him. This wasn't how she pictured them meeting again. She imagined a café where they would reminisce about the past and laugh about it. Instead, what she got was this. An accident followed by a disaster mixed with unresolved tension and unspoken emotions. Things that were too heavy to discuss tonight. If there was one thing they could do as a team really well, it was avoidance. Even if it meant falling back into the same patterns they had in high school.

 _Fight of flight, right?_

She heard his voice echo in her head. He had said that to her once. After a food fight involving tapioca pudding and Jell-O that got them both suspended. Funny how she hadn't thought of that in years.

"We can share. I guess. If you're really cool with it."

There was a lot of trepidation behind the words. His foot tapped the floor. It always does that when he's nervous.

She didn't let her smile show. "I'm cool with it. It's not like we haven't before."

The shock on his face reminded her that the last part of what she said probably should have been kept to herself. When he recovered, he cleared his throat.

"I won't kill you in your sleep is all I mean," she added, trying to pass it off as a joke.

He went along with it. "As if you could."

"Don't tempt me."

For a moment, all he did was stand by the door and watch her. Where had all the years gone? She wondered. In a split second, she was brought back to Rome. When he would look at her like that. Then he ruined it by saying with a quick point, "Your nipples are poking through that shirt."

Instinctually, her arms flew to cover her chest. "It's cold and you're a pervert!" she yelled.

He smiled widely then closed the door. "I'm going to change now." He made a short trip across the bedroom and opened his closet.

"You're not doing it in this room!"

He laughed. "Like you said, it's not like you haven't seen it before. And it is _my_ room."

"I never said that. I said–" she stopped herself before burying her face into one of his pillows. "Just do it quickly."

He laughed even louder. "That's what she said."

"Urgh!" she groaned. The sound muffled by the pillow.

There was a shuffling of cloth and then a loud thud of a closing door.

"I'm done. You can open your virginal maiden eyes now."

"Good. I hope they don't burst into flames upon seeing your wretched, naked body."

She still kept her head down.

"One could only dream," he said. Then she felt him tug on the covers. The mattress dipped to her left. Finally, she opened her eyes. He was wearing a thin white cotton t-shirt. She couldn't see if he was wearing pyjama bottoms since his legs were under the covers. "Good night, princess."

He clapped and the lights went off. They were plunged into darkness.

"So impressive," Rhonda said sarcastically in the dark.

She listened to his steady breathing. He was ignoring her. She went on.

"When did you buy the clapper?"

"After I burned all your Barbie dolls. Look, can you just go to sleep?"

The quiet made her uneasy. Staying in a room with him wasn't such a good idea in hindsight. She felt a panic attack coming on.

"I knew it was you. You're sick," her voice had a breathy Marilyn Monroe quality to it now. If she just went along with the jokes, she'll be fine.

"Still not sorry about it. Those things make great burning material. By the way, are you an owl? Why won't you just shut up and go to sleep?"

"Stop giving me attitude. I didn't plan to be stuck here, okay?"

Her voice came out sadder and more broken than she intended. She felt him turn towards her but she kept staring at the ceiling. Even if she did cry, she doubted he'd see it. It was so dark in his room. There was nothing to focus on but the sounds. The thunder rolled outside and the rain still crashed against his windows. His sheets rustled.

"I'm sorry."

Short. To the point. For years, she thought she wanted his apology but now that she had it, it felt more like a dismissal. It opened old wounds.

She heard him breathe in. "I guess, no… I was, I was so shocked to see you outside my house. The way I dealt with that shock is by being an asshole. You don't deserve that. I'm sorry."

She didn't reply.

"I think I'll go sleep on the couch now."

Her hand shot out to stop him from moving. "Can we– for tonight, can we just pretend everything's fine? That nothing happened?"

When she didn't hear him say anything, she continued, maintaining her grip on his arm. "Like, you're not going to sleep on the couch because it's awkward and we kept in touch for years."

"This isn–"

"Like we're just two high school classmates who had an accidental meeting in Rome. And now, now we're stuck here doing our best to deal with the circumstances."

She waited for him to insist on moving to the couch again. Instead, he relaxed.

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Great."

She let him go and there was silence once again.

"Rhonda?"

He hadn't spoken in so long that it sort of jolted her awake when he called her.

"Yeah?"

In the darkness, she can pretend it was her imagination's version of Thaddeus that she was talking to. He was just a disembodied voice in a sea of nothingness.

"Why'd you add me on Facebook?"

She aimed for a breezy laugh what came out was a choked chuckle. "It's not a big deal. I asked, you accepted. It's in case of high school reunions. Just want to be sure I'm updated."

The delivery made it seem like she wasn't obsessing over that friend request earlier in the week.

"And the shoes?"

"Hmm?" she pretended she didn't know what he was talking about.

"The dress shoes you sent a month ago?"

"Oh that," she said like she'd forgotten. "Graduation present. I sent one to everyone." Well, she did. But it was to cover up the fact that she only wanted to give him a present. She figured it would be too obvious if only he received one.

"You sent everyone Italian dress shoes?"

"No, you idiot. I sent everyone a personalised gift. Suited to their tastes. Courtesy of yours truly."

She heard him snicker. "Such a saint. I guess now that you're an art history graduate, you have to bribe people to get a job. It's sad."

"Shut up. You're such a smartass. If you must know, I do have a job lined up at McDonald's as a cashier. Thank you very much. So you don't have to stay up at night and cry, worrying about me."

He snorted.

"And I bet you liked those shoes."

"My roommate dug them even more."

"Tell me you didn't give them to him," she moaned.

"I didn't," he sighed.

"Good, because they were for you."

She felt his breath on the side of her face. She missed this closeness between them. His scent was everywhere and she wanted to bathe in it.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "I know they cost a lot."

"The price isn't important."

"The luxury of being rich."

"Coming from someone who owns a gorgeous apartment in Rome."

"It's my mother's. And shut up," he retorted.

"You shut up."

"You shut up."

"You shut up. Trying to get some sleep here," she snapped.

There was a quiet moment before they both sprang into laughter at their silliness.

"We're okay, right?" she asked. The question hung in the air.

Before finally, he replied.

"I think so," his warm voice enveloped her. She was hyper-aware of the touch of his skin when he wrapped his fingers around her hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, cradling her hand close to him. He thought she had fallen asleep but she heard him.

And at that, they both fell asleep peacefully. Holding hands in slumber like they used to.


	16. Swansea III

_**Swansea, April 2010**_

"Why are you doing this, sweetheart?"

"What are you talking about? She needs me here. Nadine is on some rainforest study. Helga is on a book tour. They're not showing up until the wedding. Her sorority friends are all busy. I'm all she's got."

He heard his mother sigh.

"No, Thaddeus. I know it's convenient for her to have you there but what I meant is why are you doing this to yourself? What are you hoping to achieve?"

Thad was taken aback that his mother would even bring it up. Like all things regarding Rhonda, he thought she'd sweep this under the rug. But ever since Rhonda's engagement, Allegra had been different.

"If this is one of your schemes–"

"Whoa, wait," he said. He had tensed. The word scheme reminded him of countless detentions and always set his blood boiling whenever someone used that word against him. Thaddeus doesn't scheme. At least, not anymore. Those days were long behind him. "Can't you even give me the benefit of the doubt? I'm your son. I'm not scheming anything."

"Yes," she said patiently. "But I also know you've been in love with Rhonda since you were a child. You're not reasonable when it comes to her."

"There's no scheme!" he insisted.

"I don't want you to get hurt."

 _Too late for that._

He gritted his teeth. Somehow he had sensed his mother wouldn't understand. But he had to explain. He needed to let her know why this was so important to him.

"Ma, my time with her is limited. This is maybe the last time I get to spend whole days with her. It's been great. We've been eating so much cake. It's the last time I can make her laugh at my jokes, hug her, put my arm around her without feeling guilty. And yesterday, when she tried on her dress. You should have seen her face after she saw herself in the mirror… In a few days, she'll be someone else's girl."

The thought churned his stomach.

"Oh Thaddeus, come home," she pleaded.

"I can't," he said, pained.

"Of course, you can. Come home before you lose yourself. Rhonda's a big girl. She can hire hundreds of people to help her with this wedding. She doesn't need you there."

His mother was right but it was agonising to admit it.

"Goodbye, ma."

"Now, wait a second! List–"

He hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed. At the edge, he slowly sat down and released an unsteady breath. It was all going so fast. When they first started dating, Thaddeus hadn't been too worried. He thought Edward was harmless. Nice enough. Then they started getting too close, Rhonda stopped visiting him to spend more time with her boyfriend. He understood. He had no right to be jealous. They were just friends now. It was a relief to have their relationship on the mend after a three-year rift but then they announced their engagement.

That's when everything fell apart.

She looked so happy he didn't have the heart to say anything. They invited him to a lovely dinner, loads of their childhood friends were there, he brought a nice bottle of wine, white because she couldn't stand red. Rhonda greeted him at the door wearing a salmon sundress. Her hair had been pinned on one side and then it cascaded in waves over one shoulder. She was still the most gorgeous being he'd ever seen. She gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for the gift.

She talked about how she was glad he could make it and how she and her boyfriend were doing. He nodded absently, trying to feign interest as she kept babbling about Edward or Eddy as she called him. Then dinner came and they all went down to her back yard. Or a part of her backyard since her property was massive. Acres of well-manicured lawn spread before him as he walked down the stone steps. There was a giant white canopy and under it were arranged white tables and chairs, cutlery was laid out in precise patterns. Guests milled about making conversation. There were chefs grilling succulent seafood and steaks at one side. Upon seeing him, Brooke greeted him with a smile and came over to ask how he was doing. She was dressed in that understated manner of hers with only a splash of red lipstick to colour her face. He filled her in and they talked for awhile. For some reason, even though the last time they met was in Rome and she had been reserved and chilly, she was friendly towards him here.

"I'm glad Rhonda invited you," she said. "I don't know much of these people, they're the children of some of my friends but I've never talked to them."

"Why?"

"They bore me."

He laughed at her honesty. Her eyes narrowed in contemplative amusement.

"Self-centeredness and spoiled behaviour are not my cup of tea."

"And what is?" he asked, cautiously.

"Intelligence."

They watched the other guests for a while.

"They're Edward's friends, are they not?" he asked.

Brooke nodded. "Only you, Helga and Nadine are probably the only interesting people I can talk to in here."

"I think more of our classmates are coming later. They're quite fun. But thank you for thinking that I'm interesting, Mrs. Lloyd. I can assure you, I'm pretty boring," he teased.

She released something close to a snort but then smiled. "Don't feign modesty, Mr. Gammelthorpe, it does not suit you. Oh, there's my husband now. I've got to go before he challenges one of them to a game of chess. He's been looking for a playmate since Rhonda moved out of the house. I'm afraid I've never been good at the game."

"I can play," he offered.

She squinted and tilted her head. Then it seemed like inspiration struck her. "I've got to introduce you to him."

"I don't think that's necessary."

Brooke gave him a pointed look that was so similar to Rhonda's it threw him off.

"Come now, dear boy. There's nothing to fear." The way she said it sounded more like a challenge instead of a statement. She lifted one of her brows. At first, it didn't make sense how she and Rhonda were related, except for the similarities in physical appearance, but now he could see it clearly. Brooke's daughter was an exaggerated manifestation of her.

He laughed. "Funny, I feel no fear at all."

"Then you wouldn't mind an introduction," she said in the corner of her mouth before waving to get her husband's attention. "Buckley, I have someone here I want you to meet!"

The Lloyd patriarch, glanced around to locate his wife, his face brightened once he saw her. He eagerly made his way to them and the young blonde woman he had been talking to looked relieved to get away. She had probably been patiently listening to him talk about chess moves.

"Hey," he leaned in to kiss his wife then turned to Thaddeus. "Hi there. Good evening, I'm Buckley Lloyd."

"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe. I was Rhonda's classmate from kindergarten to high school."

"Ah... Splendid!"

He extended a hand for Thaddeus to shake. By his side, Brooke grinned before taking a sip from her half-filled glass. At that point, Thaddeus Gammelthrope had never wanted to impress two people more.

"Pleased to meet you," the older man said. His voice had a tinge of the upper-class accent that was associated with haughtiness but his eyes were warm.

"Pleasure's all mine," Thaddeus replied.

"Thaddeus here graduated from Stanford," Brooke mentioned with practiced casualness.

She didn't expect him to say that and he hid his surprise.

"That's impressive," Buckley commented. "I wasn't so lucky to go to an Ivy League school. I went to Hillwood University on scholarship."

In some way, Thaddeus thought that was more impressive than his achievement.

Brooke was smiling so widely to the side and he didn't know why. Then she chipped in, "Thaddeus here plays chess."

Buckley's eyes widened in delight. Thaddeus finally understood the source of Brooke's amusement. "Do you?"

"Yes but only recreationally."

The older man laughed. It was a rich sound. Brooke hooked an arm around her husband's. "We can't all be grand masters."

"Did you join competitions?" Thaddeus asked.

"When I was young but I was not exceptional. I enjoyed playing although I wasn't very competitive. Would you like to have a go?"

Thaddeus started to reply, "Uh, sur–"

Brooke cut in, "I'm afraid I'm going to leave you, boys, here. I'm going to talk to Helga. Maybe she has something more interesting to talk about other than this dull old king's game."

Buckley didn't seem the least bit offended, probably used to his wife's opinions of the game.

"She's just saying that because she can never get it."

"That might explain it," Thaddeus joined in.

Buckley laughed while his wife frowned.

"It's not stimulating for me. But I can see why it might have some appeal to two old fools like the both of you," she huffed. Brooke raised her chin indignation but gave Thaddeus a wink before leaving him with her husband. "Have fun."

She trotted off like the queen of the castle that she is.

Without her as a crutch, his anxiety came back. It wasn't that Buckley Lloyd was a physically intimidating man but there was something about him so self-assured that put Thaddeus on edge. A man who made something out of himself. He seemed to about the same age as his wife. However, whereas Brooke's hair was still ink black, his were starting to gray around the edges.

"So, a game?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Sure. Lead the way, sir."

The man smiled and gestured to the gardens. "Buckley will do. I have an outdoor set. It's a walk away so nobody would bother us while we play."

There were trimmed privet hedges that decorated the gardens. The grass ended and a gravelly path began. The party was still seen in the distance but something told Thaddeus it was easier for them to see the soiree than for any of the guests to spot them. They walked in silence until Lloyd asked him a question. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was highlighted in hues of purples, pinks, and oranges.

"So, where you close to my Rhonda?"

"Pardon me, sir?"

"Buckley will do, young man. Just Buckley. My Rhonda. In school, were you two close?" he asked. The tone had been cordial but there was an underlying something that Thaddeus couldn't help figure out.

"I, actually, we fought a lot in school," he said truthfully. Somehow, Thaddeus knew he couldn't lie to this man.

His answer made the man grin. "You're Curly."

Thaddeus stilled. He didn't know what to say. Once again, he aimed for the truth.

"It's a childhood nickname."

"Brooke was really grateful of how you took care of things in Rome. You didn't know how worried we were. Thank you for informing us she was with you."

At the time, he felt like he had betrayed Rhonda. Her parents had to know where she was, though. He still felt guilty about the whole thing.

"It's a long time ago."

"I don't forget my allies."

For the first time that night, Thaddeus saw not the affable father but the ruthless businessman. One who could not be bullied or bought off. One who had to face, and stare competition right in the face without flinching before winning big.

"It's really not a big deal," he insisted.

Buckley shook his head. They had reached a stone outdoor chess table with marble pieces. The tycoon gestured for him to sit so Thaddeus did. Once they were settled, he said, "My daughter's wellbeing is the most important thing to me."

Since he was on white, the rich man was the first to move.

"It only makes sense," Thaddeus replied before moving his black piece.

Buckley nodded, staring at the board. "I'm glad my daughter has a friend like you."

Thaddeus bet he wouldn't have said that if he knew what really went on with him and his daughter during that summer in Rome.

Check.

Buckley's brows furrowed. "Are you sure you only play for recreation?" he said then moved his King away.

"Pretty sure," the young man coolly replied. He had to focus.

Another check.

The older man looked disappointed and then unexpectedly thrilled. "How often?"

"A few days a week."

At that, Lloyd rubbed his hands together. "This is good. I haven't been challenged since Rhonda left. I taught her most of my best moves, the rest she learned herself. Get ready to lose, young man."

Thaddeus laughed at Buckley's impression of a villainous voice. In some ways, the man reminded him of his father who could be quite silly at times.

"Not in this lifetime, old-timer."

Buckley chuckled.

It was hard to play against such an enthusiastic, skilled player. Thaddeus felt rusty but in the end, he managed to beat him after he devoured Lloyd's queen.

"Checkmate!"

"Indeed," Buckley whistled. He didn't seem too put out to lose. It's as if the process of the match was more valuable to him than the outcome. "You're a good opponent, lad."

Thaddeus felt a burst of pride.

"I knew I'd find you two nerds here," a female voice announced. "Mom told me about this mini geek fest."

Buckley beamed at the sound and looked up. "Hello, dear."

Rhonda walked over, hear flat slippers crunching on the gravel. "Hey, dad. Thad. Whoa, that rhymes." She laughed at her little joke and Thaddeus rolled his eyes.

"Can you believe I'm friends with him? So unsupportive. Doesn't even get my humour," she said to her father before giving him a peck on the cheek.

Buckley watched Thaddeus with mirth in his hazel eyes. "I can believe that _you're_ friends with him but why would he want to be friends with _you_? That's what baffles me. How can such a smart man be associated with trouble like you?"

Thaddeus laughed and Rhonda slapped her father's arm. "Hey! I'm your daughter. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I've changed allegiance," he shrugged. "I pick the better chess player."

Thaddeus held up his hands in surrender. "I am not part of this."

"Disloyal. Both of you," she scolded. "By the way, I'm not here just to trade insults. I'm here to tell you that dinner is ready. Mom wants you to get back. And better chess player?" She turned to Thaddeus with a narrowed gaze. "We'll see."

Her salmon skirts swished behind her as she made her exit.

Buckley's face still held the same amusement. "I guess we better follow her."

Thaddeus nodded. They caught up to Rhonda. She and her father immediately started talking. The subject matter wasn't one that he wanted to hear about.

"Have you talked to Eddy yet?" Rhonda asked her father.

"Yeah," Buckley replied. Thaddeus sensed a note of reproach.

"What do you think of him?"

The amused expression was gone and in its place was a mask. Rhonda didn't seem to notice. "He seems like a nice young man. Comes from a decent family. Makes good money. I did introduce him to you after all."

She nodded.

"Do you like him?" she asked her father.

It was clear to him she was asking for Buckley's approval. Thaddeus felt like he was intruding what was supposed to be a private conversation but Rhonda paid him no mind.

"I think he's suitable for you," Buckley replied but as he said it his eyes were on Thaddeus. The younger man met his gaze, confused. He turned to his daughter. "If you like him and you're happy, then there's no problem."

Rhonda nodded, pleased with the answer. "Thank you, daddy. This means the world to me." She gave him an affectionate side-hug. They had reached the canopy. The delicious smell of food reminded Thaddeus how hungry he was. Upon seeing a bar with a busy bartender in one corner, he felt silly about his party gift. One measly bottle.

"I think I'll go get seated," Thaddeus announced, wanting to leave the father and daughter for some time alone.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Thaddeus. Come by the house anytime for a match."

"I might take you up on that," he simply said. He lifted his hand to give a small wave. The Lloyds started talking immediately after he left.

He had a different impression of Buckley after he met him. The man was surprising. A contrast to what he first thought of him. The guests sat down. The food was, of course, scrumptious. Everything was fresh and cooked just right. The vegetables in the salad were crisp and the meat was divine. Mid-way through dinner, there was a clanging of glass. Everybody hushed.

"Thank you for coming tonight!" Rhonda announced through a sound system. Her table was located in the heart of the square. Seated there were her parents and another older blonde couple, and then her boyfriend Edward who was sitting down but was holding her hand as she held the mic with another.

There was a cheer and then one of Rhonda's most outspoken cousins, Lana, yelled, "We came for the food."

Everybody laughed.

"Thanks, Lana. As you know, this is a family dinner and I wanted to invite all my closest friends and relatives because I have something important to announce."

Suddenly, a black pit of dread appeared in Thaddeus' stomach. He looked around, Helga's wild eyes met his. His reaction was mirrored in her face. Panic. Arnold was sitting right beside her with a look of confusion as he watched Rhonda's speech.

"Eddy and I have been dating for a few months now. And I have to say that, I am grateful to have him in my life."

The pit deepened.

"So grateful in fact…"

 _No, please, no._

"That I have decided to say yes when he asked me to marry him last night! We're engaged!"

The applause drowned the blood pounding in his ears. He saw Eddy pick up Rhonda and twirl her around before giving her a kiss. She threw her hands around his neck. Thaddeus wanted to vomit. He sat ramrod straight before knocking his drink back in one gulp. A few people had stood up to offer their congratulations and he didn't notice that Helga had gone to him until he saw her beside him. He turned away. Then he felt her hands on his back and her breath on his ear.

"We're going for a walk," she said.

"I'm not leaving," he choked.

"Don't make me get Arnold to drag you."

He stood up and sneered at her. "Fine."

They escaped the crush unnoticed. The sun had set and brought about a chill. They walked quietly side by side. His anguish had robbed him of speech.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. His vision was blurring. They kept walking, though. With long strides. Helga's long legs kept up with him.

"Talk to me, let it out," she said, panting now that he was walking too quickly. He realised that he had led him near the chess table. There was an entrance to a tall hedge maze he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Curly, talk to me."

"What?" he whipped around, tears in his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

Helga's blue eyes watered. "It's okay. Everything's going to be fine."

"How can you say that? How can you possibly say that? She's–" He couldn't finish. A sob rose from his throat. He crumpled to the crunchy gravel. Helga was beside him in seconds, squatting down, an arm around him.

"I'm so sorry. Arnold and I are here for you," she whispered and leaned her blonde head against his shoulder.

He rubbed a hand against his wet eyes. He had made a fool out of himself.

 _Why do fools fall in love?_

"Thanks," he breathed.

They sat together in silence. The jagged stones were painful but they didn't mind. They watched the glow of the party in the distance. Music had started playing. The joyous cacophony seemed to mock him. When he regained his breathing and the tears had stopped flowing, he whispered, "I didn't expect this. I thought they were just dating. Nothing serious."

But there had been signs. Signs that she took the relationship seriously. He only realised now, in the aftermath.

"I know what you mean. Plus, it's only been months. What is she thinking?" Helga asked.

Right now, he didn't know. He felt like he hadn't known her at all.

…

Thaddeus cringed at the memory. Right now, all that mattered was to take advantage of the time left. There would be plenty of time to brood later. Once the wedding was done, he'd just simply detach himself. Hopefully, she'll do the same.

…

Brooke Lloyd gave another disappointed sigh. It wasn't even the wedding yet and Edward was already more absent than present. He was always away on business trips. Her daughter had been driving her crazy with all this wedding planning. She was relieved when Thaddeus had stepped in to help. His friendship with her daughter was one of the oddest things Brooke had witnessed but also one of the sweetest.

They just seemed to get along so well. And when she observed them, it all made sense.

 _Peas in a pod._

Rhonda made him smile and vice versa. Thaddeus didn't let her get away with a lot of things and matched her dry humour. It was entertaining to watch them verbally spar with each other.

Sometimes Brooke forgot that Thaddeus wasn't going to be her son-in-law and as the days passed, the thought depressed her more than she expected.

Why can't her daughter see this?

But Rhonda was stubborn. If she had made up her mind about something, she would do it. See it through. Brooke suspected this trait would be her downfall. She watched them giggle at the pronunciation of a dish on the wedding menu. Then Thaddeus reared his head back in laughter and her daughter clutched her stomach, wiping a tear from her eye. They were both in stitches as they mimicked an upper-class British tone while pronouncing the dish. Each pronunciation more ridiculous and nasal than the last.

Their silliness reminded her of the early days of her marriage.


	17. Hillwood IV

**_Hillwood, November 2009_**

"This is the third car you've totalled!" Buckley Lloyd roared. Rhonda watched the vein throbbing in his forehead. In her slightly drunken haze, everything that was happening was extremely funny. "You cannot keep going with this destructive behaviour!"

Beside him, her mother was watching Rhonda with disappointed eyes. They were having the confrontation in one of the manor's parlour rooms. The one with all the red and satin. As much as she loved red, Rhonda hated this room. It was excessive and quite frankly, vulgar. Her mother loved it though and have not re-decorated it in years. Tonight, she wanted to burn it. The thought of it going up in flames was hilarious.

She giggled. Her father almost blew up.

"What is so goddamned funny? A DUI is no laughing matter, Rhonda. God, you could have killed people tonight!"

Even in her state, she knew that. And that was the most shameful of all. Not the part where she was dragged on the back of a police car or when she was giving her fingerprints at the station. It was the guilt. The thought that her irresponsibility could have cost someone's life.

"It's not funny, sir," she replied.

He hated it when she called him that. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he sighed. It was three thirty in the morning and her parents looked extremely tired. This time, it was her mother that spoke up.

"What's going on, Rhonda?"

Her tone had been soft, motherly. So unlike her. Rhonda's tongue felt numb against the roof of her mouth and the urge to vomit had not fully gone away even if she already did it twice at the station.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," she snapped.

Brooke threw her hands up. "Unbelievable. Of course, it doesn't concern us. It's only our daughter who could end up in jail and our property that's destroyed. None of our concern at all."

Rhonda's jaw was set. "Look, I've learnt my lesson tonight. Alright? I'll be paying for it in the next few months. So, once again, please leave me alone."

Her parents shot each other glances. The ones they did when they were communicating just with their eyes. A talent older couples possessed. Buckley cocked his head. Brooke nodded. "Your father and I have been talking…"

Rhonda waited. They were going to mete out the punishment.

"All this irresponsibility, this rash and reckless behaviour, we think it's about time you get settled."

 _Settled?_

"What? What do you mean settled?"

Dread invaded her whole being.

"Settled. Married. We think it will bring you some stability if someone's looking out for you," Buckley explained.

Rhonda shot up to her full height. "Are you insane? Have you both finally gone nuts? I'm not getting married!"

Brooke shook her head. "We're serious. We want you to find a husband before your 24th birthday. You can choose him yourself."

Her throat clogged up. They couldn't do this. Except they can. Her behaviour had been repulsive lately. Her alcoholism that begun in the sophomore year of college had spiralled out of control. The car accident was the last straw. It wasn't her fault. Honest. If only he'd stopped dating so many… No. Her reaction to Thaddeus Gammelthorpe's busy love life was her own mess. Self-destruction had become her specialty and it was time to wake up.

"You have a year. That's plenty of time," Buckley offered.

"This is extremely offensive and sexist," she huffed. "You wouldn't do this if you had a son."

Her mother gave her a chilling glare and with a lift of an eyebrow said, "We don't care."

"This is bullshit," she breathed.

"It's a reasonable request. As long as that someone is a stable man who will provide for you, he is eligible," her mother replied.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't stand to be around these two clowns who used to be her parents.

"What happens if I don't marry?" she challenged.

Buckley's scowled deepened. "You can kiss our money goodbye, dear. Prepare to be on your own. You'll finally have that independence you crave."

Without her parents' money, what would she do? Rhonda Lloyd was an heiress. That's what people called her. That's what they knew her as. It was who she is. They were cruel to do this. Rip her of her own identity. Her life of luxury stripped from her. She remembered the horrible time in fourth grade when they had gone bankrupt and thought never again. She had to swallow her pride. No matter the cost. "Alright," she rasped.

Brooke's eyes widened in disbelief. "So, you agree to our terms?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Rhonda wanted to cry. Who would want to marry her in this state? The one who sprang to mind was too busy being a bachelor and her best friend. He was the reason why she was in this mess in the first place. And she wouldn't… couldn't ask him to marry her. Not for this. If he was to marry her, she wanted _him_ to ask. Because he loved her. Not because of money.

"If you want me to get married, you're going to have to help me find a husband," she said.

"Of course," Brooke nodded. However, her father, who was always so sure of himself, appeared doubtful. He was still silent.

"If I do this, my inheritance is secured. Right?"

"Yes."

Determination coursed through her. "I don't want just your word. That could change at any time. I want this down on paper. If I find a husband, my trust fund is secured. It's mine. I'll even go on the mend. There will be no more episodes like this."

"How encouraging," Brooke drawled.

"Brooke, that's enough," her father cut in. "Yes. If you want it on paper, we'll have it done up. I'll call Meyers."

Meyers was her father's lifelong lawyer who handled all of the Lloyd Company contracts. This was going too fast. Not how she imagined her night. Just a few hours earlier, she was happily downing Tequila shots after Thaddeus had flown in from Chicago to have their ritualistic dinner together, only to disappear with a redhead by the end of the night. She told herself she didn't care but a few drinks in and she didn't believe the lie. After that, it seemed like a good idea to drive home. That was before the front of her car wrapped around a tree. She was lucky she wasn't hurt. The alcohol had relaxed the muscles, making the impact less brutal on her body. It was also fortunate she wasn't going very fast.

"Good. So it's settled. In a year, I'll be married and I hope you'll be happy," she spat before exiting the room. All she wanted to do was escape so she could burst into tears.

Brooke spared a glance at her husband who said softly under his breath, "I hope we're doing the right thing."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "You fixed me up. Someone who loves her will."

…

Things were frosty between them. The Lloyds never ate their meals together. Or at least she avoided eating with her parents. In a week, she had moved out of the house into a tiny apartment. Every week after that, her parents would throw a party where all the eligible bachelors of their social class would show up. They all bored her to death. The parties were a cover up. It was really just speed dating for Rhonda. She had been unimpressed by everyone so far. That was until one evening, the universe sent her a beautiful blonde man with a charming smile and baby blue eyes so clear they sparkled. He caught her attention in an instant. He smiled up at her, showcasing even teeth. Even from afar she noticed. He had a face that had seemingly been sculpted by the renaissance masters. His appearance was so sudden that it wasn't a stretch to imagine a bolt of lightning struck and then there he was. Standing like a proud Roman god in the middle of the room, surrounded by women. She flirted with her eyes. Before moving off to the crowd, she adjusted her tight red ballgown to showcase more of her breasts. When she turned around, the women have scattered and he was speaking to her father. He had such magnetism, she couldn't look away.

Gaining courage, she walked up to them. Buckley immediately introduced him. The gorgeous man straightened up, extending a hand towards her. He gave a dashing, amused smirk.

"Hello there, I'm Edward Smith. Pleasure to meet you."

"Rhonda Lloyd. Charmed."


	18. New York II

_**New York, March 2016**_

"I'm so glad of the progress you've made. I understand this is a hard process. It's team work. It's exhausting. There are a lot of wounds that are going to be pried open with a crowbar but that's what honest communication is about. Discomfort, in the beginning, is worth it in the end when you've avoided misunderstandings. And it's all a step to healing."

Rhonda nodded, just wanting the session to be over with. She didn't mind Dr. Finklestein. In fact, she even admired the woman. So enthusiastic to help couples who were going through rough patches. She had come highly recommended. Even though she can't save her marriage, Rhonda thought, at least she was slowing down the rate that it was falling apart.

Beside her, Edward listened to the good doctor with rapt focus. As if he was taking notes with his brain. His hand gripped hers. His dedication touched her but it was too late. There was too much that had gone on. Rhonda didn't want to deal with it anymore. He had been true to his word though. Eddy was always by her side and had stayed home for a month.

He spoke to her in a sweet tone and sometimes held her tightly when they were left alone.

His last minute affection and sincere apology made her sick. What's worse was that she let him make love to her one night. There was nothing wrong with it but she felt as if she was betraying someone. Dr. Finklestein had suggested that the sooner their sex life was in order, the faster their reconciliation would go.

After that night, she told Eddy she wasn't ready and he understood. He respected her decision and didn't ask her to be intimate with him again. "I understand. These things take time," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have rushed you into it."

But it wasn't that.

It was the fact that she wasn't thinking of her husband in the middle of the act. It was the fact that she smelled citrusy scents whenever he touched her. Or saw black hair instead of blonde. She could puke. She wanted to puke. Wait a second…

"Do you have a trashcan, Dr. Finkelstein?"

"Yes, here."

Edward watched her. "What's going on?"

No time to explain, Rhonda grabbed the grey receptacle and emptied her lunch.

…

"So, when is the last time you had your period?" her doctor asked her as she glanced down at her chart. Dr. Roberts was a man in his early sixties but was still very handsome. Rhonda stared at him and was reminded of Sean Connery. They sat in a clinical room with big health posters, a blue examination bed, and Dr. Roberts desk which had photos of his family and his golden retriever.

"Uh, I don't know. I hardly keep track. I have an irregular one. What's my period got to do with anything? It's a simple stomach bug."

Dr. Roberts shook his head and gave her a sorry smile. "According to my chart, you might be nine weeks pregnant. That's when usual symptoms like nausea and vomiting…"

She tuned him out. The world blurred around and there was a sharp ringing in her ears. Her breaths turned shallow and her hands clammy, gripping her skirt. All she could think about was how fortunate that Eddy was outside receiving a call.

 _Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant._

The one word reverberated in her brain.

"Rhonda?" Dr. Roberts pulled her back into the world.

She pasted what must have seemed like an insane smile. "Hmm?"

"We need to run a couple of more tests, just to be sure but I'm quite positive that you're going to be a new mother. Congratulations."

She didn't feel congratulated. She felt burdened and sick. No, no. This wasn't supposed to happen. At that moment was when Eddy decided to burst into the room again.

"Hey, what's up?"

Rhonda put her signature Lloyd brave face on. Dr. Roberts started scribbling something down on his prescription pad.

"Hey, guess what?"

…

Somehow, news that she was knocked up spread like wildfire. Eddy had been too excited and called her parents immediately after they've reached home. She received congratulatory phone calls from friends within days. They had dinner with her parents and they were over the moon. And then baby shopping came along. Edward attacked it with such ferocity that left her feeling a little bit scared.

"What do you think of this one?" he asked as he held up a tiny red rattler. He gave it a little shake and poked her cheek with it.

"Stop it."

He poked again and laughed. "Come on, mommy. Which one?"

"I want a divorce," she said.

The rattler dropped to the floor. There was a sound of maracas and a thud. Her answer stole his breath away. "What?"

"I said I want a–"

He held up a hand and shook his head. "No, no. I heard you." He whispered, "You're doing this here? In the middle of Buy Buy Baby?"

His look of dismay broke her heart but she couldn't continue living a lie.

"Is it me? Is it Dr. Finkelstein? Because we can change therapists if that's what you want."

She shook her head.

"Then what is it, Rhonda?" his voice was louder now and a few moms-to-be had turned their heads.

"It's not that. You've been great. I–" How could she explain herself? How could she tell him the truth? "I'm different. I've changed. I don't want to be here anymore. And you shouldn't be with someone who is not trying just as hard to revive this marriage. It's not right."

For the first time in their marriage, he looked like he was about to cry. "I know I cheated on you multiple times."

She waited for him to make a point.

"And I know it takes a long time to forgive something like that but we can work it out. I wasn't ready when we first got married but I'm ready now."

"I'm tired, Eddy. And I don't think we can work it out," she said softly.

"Why?" he pleaded. "Tell me why?"

She gulped. She had to tell him the truth. "Because I cheated on you too. And I think it's time we end this farce so we can both be happy."

His expression of extreme shock and horror was what she'd been expecting.

"I wanted to get even when I found out about your affairs. It doesn't excuse my behaviour. I– I'm sorry. I'm sorry about it."

He sniffed.

"I should have expected it," he said slowly.

She wanted to give him a hug. But she knew he wouldn't be welcome to her touch. "I think you'll make a great husband. Some day. But not for me and not for some time. You love women far too much. But this month you proved that you can commit."

He snorted and crossed his arms. Now that he's had time to process it, he was taking the news quite well. "So what now? What happens?" he sneered.

"We get a divorce and I move out of the house. Don't worry, I won't try to take your money in the settlement. We leave the marriage with what we had going in."

That seemed to comfort him and he relaxed. A peaceful air surrounded him as he stared down at her with his sapphire eyes. She was glad she was finally owning up to her mistakes and facing the consequences. The time for running from her responsibilities was over. Rhonda needed to get real.

There would be a backlash. From her parents, her friends, her relatives. But she didn't care. It wasn't fair to her and Eddy to continue putting up a show. Somehow, she believed Eddy knew this as well. She could tell from the way he seemed relieved. He was still angry, yes, but it was like he didn't have to pretend anymore.

"You don't have to move out right away. I'll make the arrangements for you."

"Thanks for the offer. But I think I'd like to do this on my own."

He nodded. He wasn't going to be her husband anymore. In the future, she had to deal with most things herself.

"What about the baby? Do I get custody? That's my child."


	19. London

**_London, August 2009_**

He groaned.

"Why are you here?" Thaddeus asked as Rhonda Lloyd sat next to him. She seems to have a GPS when it came to tracking him down.

She simply smiled and punched his shoulder.

"Ow! You have to stop hanging out with Helga. Again, why are you here?"

"What? I can't just randomly show up? I thought we're friends," she said, pouting.

"I didn't say that," he said, giving her a suspicious side glance. "You said that. Actually, you just inserted yourself into my life and announced that we're friends. I remember because you spilled your drink on my shirt that night. It's will now be forever stained pink. So thanks for that." He smiled ironically. "By the way, we're acquaintances at best."

"Stop pushing me away. I heard what happened." She put her purse on the bar and ordered a beer. "You can't win every account." Rhonda gave him a pointed look.

He sighed.

Today had been terrible. He had worked on this pitch for months and he blew it. He did his best work and still came up short. His boss was going to be furious. Now, he was hiding at the Mulberry Bush and drowning his sorrows in drink.

"I know."

"Do you really?" Rhonda received her drink and took a long drink. "Because you seem to be taking this awfully. If that bottle of whiskey is anything to go by." She gestured to the Bowmore in front of him.

He scowled and turned away. "I'm just fine."

Rhonda huffed, "Sure." Her eyes scanned his face. "River in Egypt."

He rolled his eyes. "You can just say the Nile. Who told you I was here anyway?"

She clucked her tongue and pulled out her phone. She showed him a picture of the traitor. "Brad. He loves me."

Thaddeus downed another swig of whiskey while she dropped her phone back into the bag. "I regret introducing you two."

"He calls me his future wife," she said proudly, lifting her brows. "I'm thinking wedding by the beach. Turtle doves released when he sees me in my wedding gown and Seal singing _Kiss from a Rose_ as I walk to the altar."

Thaddeus laughed for the first time that night. "He's a serial womaniser. You can dream big but it's never going to happen. Commitment is his biggest fear next to spiders."

"Shame. He's such a hottie. " She nudged him with her shoulder. "So, what's _your_ biggest fear?"

 _Rejection._

He tensed as he remembered.

 _"Are you actually asking me out? Get real, Curly," she sneered as their classmates laughed in the background._

 _"Valentine's Day is coming up, I hope you're ready to spend it alone. Later, loser."_

 _"Get away from me you sick creep."_

 _"I'd rather put my hand in a blender than go on a date with you."_

The laughing faces came closer and closer. Another glass of whiskey was becoming more appealing. He had learned his lesson.

"Thaddeus?"

"Yeah," he snapped back into attention.

She was looking at him weirdly. He couldn't blame her. He probably spaced out. "Biggest fear."

"Easy," he waved a hand. "Clowns. They are intensely scary."

She nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah, I've always wondered how parents think they're entertaining to children."

They sat in quiet, thinking about clowns as a football match played in the background. He heard Rhonda inch her stool closer to him. Her elbow bumped into his which made him jolt back. Luckily, she didn't notice. He's been avoiding all physical contact with her.

"So… do you want to talk about what happened today?" she lowered her voice.

He shook his head. "Is this the friend thing that you're working on?"

She tucked her hair, exasperated. "Yes. We're friends and this is what friends do. They share."

"Look, Rhonda. I appreciate the effort but–"

"But nothing. Do me a favour. It's the least you can do," she muttered pointedly.

They hadn't talked about what happened in Rome. Instead, they hung out whenever she was in Chicago or he was in Hillwood. All of it was casual. It was obvious that he wanted to apologise but whenever he brought it up, she changed the subject. Instead, she had him doing things with her like visiting amusement parks and eating tacos at food trucks. Not that he minded. It reminded him of their interaction in Italy before he screwed things up.

"Okay," he sighed, knowing that she would push and prod until he gave up anyway.

"Great." She was beaming, satisfied with his answer.

"I have to ask, though… Our friendship, what does it entail?"

That baffled her and she stammered a reply. She clearly hadn't thought it through. He leaned on the bar, enjoying the way the question was making her sweat.

"You know, friendship stuff and things…"

"Stuff and things?" he asked.

She gave him an icy glare. "Like spending time together, hanging out. Normal friend stuff."

"Can we spend time with other people?"

She laughed. A crazy high-pitch sound that hurt his ears. Her eyes shifted from side to side. "You mean like dates?"

He nodded.

"Pssh, yeah. Of course. We're friends. Strictly nothing romantic."

"Everything friendly," he said flatly.

"Everything friendly. Let's not get caught in the details."

"Let's."

She blew away a strand of hair that fell on her face. She trained his eyes on him. "Fine. If that's what you want. We can comment if we think the other is dating a person not suitable for them."

He winced. "You're going to have power over who I date?"

"I said comment. We can give a fair assessment but that is it."

"Right," he said, wondering how this conversation got so weird so quickly. He pointed at a blonde talking to her friend at the other end of the bar. "If I say I want to date her, what happens?"

She looked at where he was pointing and squinted. "I'll say she wears too much makeup but go for it. If you want. The final decision is still up to you."

He smiled. "Alright. I like this friendship thing. By the way, I had no intention of asking her out. I just wanted clarification."

She smiled back. "I know. And, I also knew you'd get behind this 'friendship thing' as you call it. Which is weird by the way. It makes you sound like an alien. Let's just label it being mature adults." She extended a hand.

He grabbed it and they shook like business partners making a deal. Then they both let go.

"To being mature adults," she raised a glass.

"To being mature adults," he echoed. They clinked their glasses and chugged their drinks.

"So? Today? Lexington?"

"Disaster."

"How so?"

Thaddeus never liked talking about failures. One, because he thinks it's boring. Who wants to hear about a guy moaning about his problems? And two, it made him feel vulnerable. Something that he avoided at all cost. Growing up as social pariah does that to a guy.

Rhonda waited. He observed her and wondered what could she possibly gain from a friendship with him. She was always surrounded by high-profile interesting people but constantly sought him out whenever he visited his parents back home. She let Allegra fuss over her and then charm his dad with her witty sense of humour. At times, he was uncomfortable with the way she invaded his space. Like he couldn't breathe. She was always everywhere.

"I studied their company policy for months. Looked at every possible loophole. I gave them the best deal that I could and they still didn't want to compromise. They said what the partners at my firm are offering wasn't good enough."

She leaned in and he caught a whiff of her distinct perfume. He edged away.

"Do you think they're right?"

Sadly, yes. But he's boss specifically told him to sell what they have.

"Yeah. But my boss changed the offer at the last minute. They weren't happy with 10% cut back."

"So, it's not your fault."

"Eigenman isn't going to see it that way."

She patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry you're going to lose your job."

He shook her off. "What do you mean I'm going to lose my job?"

Rhonda gave him a gaze filled with sympathy before her mouth quivered. She then proceeded to laugh until she had tears in her eyes. "Oh man, your expression. I'm kidding."

"You're a jerk."

She continued laughing.

"Look, things like this happens all the time. Deals fall through. Clients go back on their word. Life goes on. I've seen my father go through it. But you know what he doesn't do?"

"Stalk his classmates in London?"

She frowned. "No, you idiot. He doesn't let it get to him. You win some, you lose some. That's business. That's life."

To her credit, Rhonda made sense. He breathed a little easier, however, horrified he was to admit that. He felt oddly comforted.

"So, enough moping and work on a counter-offer. I've never known you to be such a quitter. Don't let this slow you down. Then, after you win Lexington over, explain to your boss why this was the best course of action. You're a smart man, you'll figure it out."

He stared at her, amazed. The greasy smell of fish and chips filled the air and the lighting was bad but somehow she had never looked more beautiful. He was positive he'll remember this moment for life. Right then, at a pub in South London, he promised to dedicate himself to be Rhonda Lloyd's loyal friend. If that's what she truly wanted, he would happily give it to her.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"I'm a businessman's daughter. I've learnt a few tricks over the years." She leaned over the bar. "Bartender, we're going to need another bottle of whiskey. My friend and I are celebrating. He's about to win over a multi-million dollar company."

The bartender nodded in their direction.

Thaddeus smiled at her. "You're a great friend, banana split."

She grinned back. "Thanks, turkey sandwich."


	20. Chicago II

**_Chicago, March 2016_**

She entered his home with a spare key he'd supplied months ago. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was sitting on his black armchair, facing the glass windows. The lights from the other buildings twinkled outside. In his hand, there was a glass of whiskey. The Glenfiddich bottle sat by the foot of his chair. He heard her come in but he didn't acknowledge her.

There was no use tiptoeing around the subject.

"So, you've heard the news?" she asked.

He gave a bitter laugh, still not looking at her. She closed the door behind her and stepped inside. His voice, low and menacing, broke through the silence. It echoed in his empty apartment.

"Of course, I've heard it. Everybody has. Congratulations, by the way."

She scowled. Coming over, she knew there was a possibility he'd be upset but she never predicted it would be to this extent. Her body itched to be closed to him but she planted her feet firmly on the ground. It was not a good day to be near him. She shouldn't have come. There was always something in the air whenever Thaddeus, Curly at this instance, was about to do something crazy– the atmosphere thickens and there's a shift, a slight crank in the system.

"Go back home, Rhonda," he growled. "Why are you here? I thought you and Eddy have finally started 'figuring stuff out'."

No one knew about the divorce yet. Eddy and her have agreed to keep it under wraps until every detail was settled.

"I'm not leaving until we talk."

He rubbed his hand against his face.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"God, why are you being so pigheaded?" she snapped.

"I have no plans in being part of your scheme," he retorted.

"It's not a scheme."

"I'm not going to be responsible for ruining a marriage a second time."

"That's so fucking trite and laughable. We had an affair, yes. But let's be real. My marriage was already ruined before you came along."

 _It never had a chance in the first place._

"And that affair made me feel like shit for three years. This time we're not ending up in bed. You're going back to him. Goddamit!" He flung the glass across the room. It hit a wall and shattered into tiny pieces. "He's your husband. You're carrying his child for God's sakes, Rhonda! Can't you see? This isn't– We can't do this anymore."

She doesn't speak. Thaddeus took in ragged breaths to calm down. Their eyes met. She wasn't going to back down. He can't scare her. This was all for show. Theatrics.

"I want to be with you," she said, standing firm.

He flinched as if he was struck with a sword. She watched his brown eyes, usually filled with laughter, become glazed and empty. There it was. Out in the open. Her words hung in the air. All he needed to do was grab it. Instead, he waved them away and the letters vanished like smoke.

He shook his head. "You can't," he said, his tone tight, controlled.

"Why not?" she challenged.

She heard him sigh. He faced her with a sombre expression as if he was suddenly tired of the pretence. Then, there was fire in his eyes and his mouth curled harshly.

"Because you're married and I don't love you."

Rhonda's throat clogged with emotion and her voice shook. "You're a lousy liar."

 _Tell him about the divorce, go on._

But she couldn't. It was a test. Silly, it was silly, but somehow she believed it was necessary.

He tilted his head. A sliver of the city light cut through his eyes. It added to his feral appearance.

"Am I? Really? I'm not lying, believe me. I've only realised it just now, sitting here. We've been doing this dance for what? Ten years? Eleven? And it's brought us nothing but misery. That's not how love is supposed to be. We're not _in love_. We never were. This is just lust. Plain and simple."

She wanted to raise a hand in objection, like a student with something to say, but she bit her lip. It was time for him to speak now. Let it all out of his system. She'll get her word in later and rebut every stupid thing that he said later.

He gave a humourless laugh. "It was supposed to be a fling, you know? This started out as a fling. Something to get you out of my mind. It wasn't supposed to drag on this long. I got with you so I could move on. Date other women and forget about you. But here we are, years later, and I'm still fucking stuck with you!"

His hands were shaking by his sides. They had formed into fists. She didn't know who he was more angry at, her or himself. The words hit hard. Her chest felt incredibly painful. Suddenly, she didn't feel like working on a rebuttal anymore. There was a numbness that dug deep into her soul.

She swallowed the lump on her throat and she shot him a weak smile. Her tears were on the precipice of falling. He turned away.

"You know what?" she said, shakily. "I get it. It's fine. I hoped for too much. I let this get to my head."

"Rhonda, please," he pleaded, still not meeting her eyes. "Please understand. You're Edward's woman."

She did understand. Nothing has changed. They were still trapped. Albeit by different circumstances.

"Hey, I know better than anyone that all good things come to an end."

He didn't answer her. His hands were in full on tremors now. It was his tell. He was overwhelmed and he needed to do something about it. She walked over to where Thaddeus stood and settled next to him. She followed his gaze, out into the city below. People going on with their lives as her heart was breaking. It fell into shattered bits, scattered on his apartment floor. They stood in silence for a while.

Rhonda saw the cars moving again when the light turned green.

"Thank you for everything."

She was proud of the way her voice didn't shake this time. She almost sounded aloof. Like this affair was just a business transaction. He released a sharp breath upon hearing her. The man she loved… his face was awash with the city lights, transforming his profile into something more ethereal.

"Don't say that," he whispered. "You don't mean that."

She knew he thought the thank you cheapened what they had.

"Why not? I mean it. I want to thank you."

"No. It's not– I don't… That's not what I want."

"Doesn't matter what you want," she said harshly. "It's my turn to talk now. I'm still thanking you. It's been a thrill ride and I had fun. It's lust. Plain and simple. That's what it was. Like you said."

He grabbed her hand. The contact turned her into stone.

"I didn't know it would come to this."

Funny thing was, she did. She just hoped it wouldn't. She dreamed. Even rich girls can dream, can't they?

 _Why do fools fall in love? He had said that once. A long time ago. Why? Why do they?_

However hard this was, she didn't want to leave bitter. Rhonda wanted to feel his skin for the last time. So, she faced him, her hand reaching up to brush against his lips. She cradled his jaw, his eyes closed, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. There was something bittersweet about knowing this was the last time. The calm before the proverbial storm. A raging tornado that was ready to rip apart everything in its path. Their lives would change forever. There would be carnage. Glorious, long-awaited carnage. And yet, Rhonda felt dead inside.

"Nobody can ever expect it."

She wanted to rest. The dust would soon settle.

She was so tired. So tired of the way that he didn't fight for her. So tired of being the one to always initiate. She was so tired of waiting for him. To gain the courage to love her fully because she knew he did. She felt it whenever they made love or in the way he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking. Or when he accompanied her to see romantic comedies he had no intention of seeing. Listen patiently as she shared her problems during late night phone calls. Coming to her rescue when she had landed herself in a jam.

It was more heartbreaking to leave when she knew but she had to. He's made up his mind. And most importantly…

 _Lloyds don't beg._

They persevere. They keep their pride.

If he wasn't going to say it, if he was't going to fight for her, she wasn't going to force him.

"You're right," she said.

His wide brown eyes opened.

"About?"

"This. This wasn't love," she said softly. The air conditioning unit hummed above them. It's cold air brought a chill to Rhonda's skin. She shivered.

 _Lie._

"Yeah. We were just…"

"I was lonely. You were lonely. We were just two lonely people who made each other feel less lonely and that's okay," she said. "That's the most we can do."

 _Lie harder._

She let go of his hand. His gaze never leaving her face.

This is it. There's no going back.

"I want you to know, even right now… I don't regret anything,"

"Rhonda–"

"No, no. Don't say anymore. This is where we are," she insisted, her voice even and determined.

 _I love you. Ask me to stay… Please._

"Goodbye, Thaddeus. I'm going back now. I won't bother you anymore."

He should have looked devastated but instead there was nothing. His face was smooth and unreadable. The hands that were shaking so violently a few moments before were now still.

"You never bothered me," he rasped, his eyes trained on the floor.

"Not even once?" she aimed for a joke, tilting his face up with a hand. His wide brown eyes were vacant. It broke her heart a little more.

He shook his head. "Not once."

There was a moment that passed between them, an understanding. "I should say it too," he whispered.

"Say what?"

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye. Goodbye, Rhonda."

She nodded, not trusting her tongue to form words. His hand dropped back to his side and so did hers.

She fought the urge to kiss him. She wanted yell, _"Psych! It's just a joke. I'm actually staying. It doesn't matter if you think you don't love me!"_ But she had too much pride for that. She didn't want to put herself through the torture. She deserved someone who was brave enough to admit it. For all his reckless abandon and gusto, Thaddeus was an emotional coward. She deserved better.

 _Come on, fight for me…_

So she turned away and left. In her mind, he was still standing there, watching her as she disappeared through his front door. He doesn't call after her and she knew her resolve would have been broken if he had. She would happily turn back, run, and jump into his arms. So instead, her steps quickened until she was in the elevator and then across the lobby and lastly the front of her car. She jumped in and fiddled with the radio. It switched to a heavy metal station. Her foot pressed on the accelerator and she sped through the Chicago streets as fast as she could. She drove further and further away from the father of her unborn child.

The storm was coming.


	21. Chicago III

**_Chicago, May 2016_**

He had spent another late night in the office. Brad, who had become his business partner years ago, had already gone home. The lights on their level had been switched off. The clock on his desk read 10:45. His stomach rumbled. He had to get out of there and buy some food but the thought of going back to his apartment after what had happened there weeks ago made him sick to his stomach. He had been grabbing every opportunity to stay outside later until he's so exhausted all he could do was hop into bed and sleep. Then go back to the office and start the whole thing all over again.

Thaddeus shut down his computer and turned off his desk light. After getting one last glance of the West Loop Chicago skyline, he closed his door. He walked by the empty cubicles. The office was lonely at night. Without the employees, it was extremely desolate with no one but the noisy air-conditioning unit for company. With a wide yawn, he approached the elevator and pressed the button with a tiny star.

"Going down," a robotic voice announced. He stepped in and leaned back on one of the walls, trying to block out all thoughts relating to the incident. When he reached the ground level, the doors slid open. He walked through the turnstile and did a double take when he saw Edward Smith in the lobby, sitting down on one of the black leather couches at the receiving area. He blinked, just to check that he wasn't imagining it. Upon hearing his steps, the blonde man glanced up.

"Edward. Hey, what are you doing here?" he asked.

Rhonda's husband walked over. Then his fist connected with Thaddeus' face.

"That's for sleeping with my wife!" he snarled.

Thaddeus screamed as he stumbled back. He had closed his eyes on reflex and saw tiny white stars. He clutched his right eye in pain. His eyeball felt like it had been stabbed.

"Get up!" the man continued to yell, looking down at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Thaddeus yelled back. So, Rhonda had told him. He knew he deserved the punch but it still fucking hurt. Edward was slightly bigger than him and his hands were massive. And if he wasn't wrong, he remembered that the man played football in college. Thad saw security approaching and knew they were about to be thrown out of the building.

He swiftly stood up and stared Edward straight in the eye. "Look, let's take this outside. Before we get tackled by the security guards."

Luckily, even in his anger, Edward was able to see sense. With his square jaw clenched, the blonde man nodded. They exited the lobby with hurried steps. Once they were far away, both men eyed each other with puffed chests at the sidewalk, the Chicago River and Lake Street bridge in view. It was chilly. Edward tucked his hand in his pockets. Thaddeus felt relieved that he wasn't going to get punched again.

"What do you want from me?"

Edward laughed. "Honestly? I just wanted to punch you."

Thaddeus glared at him. "Satisfied now?" he asked.

The other man presented him with a spiteful smile. "Loads. Thanks. It was fun. I've wanted to do that since I found out." He looked away before speaking again. "But that's not what I'm here for."

Dreading where this was heading, Thaddeus braced himself. His eye was definitely swelling up. It hurt like a bitch. Thaddeus wanted to hit him back but knew it would solve nothing.

"What are you here for?" he asked. Why would Edward even bother with him? He had different mistresses in every continent. Did Rhonda's infidelity strike a chord with him?

"It's about Rhonda."

A shot of pain ran through his heart at the thought of the last time he saw her. Yelling at her to go back to the man in front of him.

"Why? Have you finally told her about all your women?" Thaddeus said.

Edward bared his teeth at him. "Watch it, buddy. I can deck you at any time. Do you want me to even out your face for you?"

Thaddeus kept quiet, his fists tightening by his sides. Edward relaxed.

"You know full well that Rhonda knew about my affairs. That's why she started this thing with you," he said. "I'm going to go straight to the point. Since our divorce was settle–"

"Whoa, wait, what the hell are you talking about?" Thaddeus asked.

Edward stared at him as if Thad had grown another head. "Our divorce. She didn't tell you?"

Thaddeus shook his head.

"Well, she asked for a divorce months ago. We filed for irreconcilable differences. She asked me to keep it quiet. We told our parents a week ago and ironed out everything with the lawyers. Then she disappeared."

Feeling extremely dizzy, Thaddeus released a shaky breath. Edward watched him. His brows meeting in the middle in confusion.

"I came here to ask if you know where she is. Judging from your face, you don't know."

His throat was starting to close up and his hands were shaking. He hid them behind his back. "I'm sorry. We– I told her to go back. To you. I haven't seen her in a month."

Edward appeared worried then. "Do you have any idea where she might be? Where do you guys usually see each other?"

"I- I," he gulped. "She travels a lot. We see each other all over. I'm not really sure where she might go. Have you asked a professional to help you with this?"

Edward nodded. "I've hired two P.I.s but it's been slow. Her folks are worried. She left me a voicemail three days ago but other than that, nothing. She didn't say where she was. She just told me she was fine and not to worry. We tracked the phone number but it came from a diner in Maine. She wasn't there when they checked. Nobody even remembered seeing her."

She could be anywhere by now, Thaddeus thought. A week was a long time.

"I'll think about it and give you a list of locations."

With a tilt of his head, Edward considered it. "If you remember anything, give me a call. I'm worried about her."

"Especially since she's carrying your baby."

"Yeah," Edward said slowly. There was something in his tone that Thaddeus didn't like.

After digging around for a name card in his wallet, Edward handed it over. The temperature had dropped even lower. Thaddeus was aware of how the cold penetrated his suit. He received the card with a trembling hand.

 _Edward Smith  
_ _Smith Construction  
_ #212-000-678-912

"I'll contact you if she calls me. I'll give you a list by tomorrow," Thaddeus said.

Where could she go? Why would she run? And why didn't she tell him that she asked for a divorce? His guts were churning in worry.

 _Please let her be safe._

Rhonda was smart. She was self-reliant. She'll be fine. He tried to reassure himself but the feeling of apprehension wouldn't go away.

"Thaddeus…" Edward rubbed his face. Thad finally noticed how exhausted the handsome man looked. "I know I wasn't a good husband to Rhonda but– now that it's the end, I feel that it's only fair if I stand by her. If you know anything… I just want her to be safe."

Thaddeus nodded. He understood. Even with his womanising, Edward wasn't a bad person.

"Anything I can do to help. I'll call if something comes up."

A black Mercedes Benz pulled over seemingly out of nowhere. Edward gave it a quickly before looking back at him.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for punching you." The rich man pointed at his eye.

Thaddeus shrugged. "I deserve it."

"Yeah, you're right," Edward said before giving him a small smile. "I'll expect your call in the morning."

The blonde man headed for the car. Thaddeus watched as it drove away and disappeared at a turn.

 _Rhonda, where could you be?_

…

Thaddeus sent a list of all the hotels he and Rhonda had met at over the years. He also sent a list of all the countries she loved to visit. Edward called a few days later and told him they still haven't found her but at least his list had narrowed down the places where she could be. Apparently, they were sure she hadn't left the country. It was a week after his bizarre meeting with Edward that he received a phone call at his office from Helga.

"You're a real son of a bitch, aren't you?" was the first thing she said when he answered the phone.

"Do you know where she is?" he asked, already grabbing for a paper and a pen.

The line was quiet for a while. He could hear her breathing on the other side.

"Yes. And I'm not telling you," she answered.

"Damn it, Helga! Everybody's worried about her," he growled, throwing the notepad on the table.

"Are you?"

"Of course, I am. Why the fuck would you ask that?" he almost yelled but remembered that he was in his office. He went around his desk to close the door, thankful that his assistant had gone to lunch.

"She's fine. She actually didn't tell me where she was but I figured it out judging from what she said. I already called her parents and her ex-husband. I figured I should call you so you don't die of anxiety."

He sat down by his desk, swivelled his chair to gaze at the river below. A lump had formed in his throat. "Did she say anything else?"

"No. Just that she's alright and for people to leave her the fuck alone while she's going through this divorce. She's a big girl. I think she's more upset that people think she's stupid enough to do something dangerous. Like she had to be watched over all the time. Frankly, I see her point. It's a little insulting. She is an adult."

He thought back to the car accident when they were twenty-three.

"She's also pregnant," Thaddeus reminded his blonde friend.

He saw his reflection on the glass. Sleep-deprived and depressed. The past month had been hell on earth for him. It showed on his face. Dark bags under his red eyes and an unshaved face. He hadn't mustered the strength to run in a while and was surprised when he was wheezing after climbing a flight of stairs that morning.

"There's that." He heard her muffled sigh. "Anyway, I'm calling to tell you she told me what happened between you two. She told me everything. I gotta say, you guys are both buffoons. What the hell were you two clowns thinking?"

His familiar friend guilt sat beside him and squeezed his neck.

"I wasn't thinking," Thaddeus said. "I was being stupid."

"Damn straight," Helga snapped. Then her tone softened, "Look, I love you. You're a good friend of mine but this is awful. What you've done is terrible. I'm not perfect but what you did was despicable."

He had never felt more ashamed. Disappointing Helga was something he never thought would make him feel like the lowest life form in the universe but it had.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not me you should apologise to. Curly, I know you love her, been in love with her for years..."

His throat clogged up and he wished he had his medication right now. The hands… Oh God, his hands. His tic was back. He just knew his punching bag at home was going to have a hard time tonight. He focused on his breathing like his child psychologist told him to do years before.

"And she damaged you in high school. Tore right through you. Ripped you a new one. But stomping on her heart when she's offered it to you is just low."

The memories came rushing back.

 _"Never! You twisted little freak!"_

"She doesn't really–" he started.

"Uh-uh! I'm not done. Stay away from her until she's better. I mean it, Curly. I'll tell you where she is when I think she's ready to hear it from you. Until then, leave her alone."

She hung up and Thaddeus listened to the beep for the longest time.


	22. Los Angeles

**_Los Angeles, May 2016_**

The alarm clock rang she pulled herself out of bed with all the willpower she could gather. If she didn't leave the bed now, she'll never get up. It had been becoming a habit. So she threw the covers away. It was another sunny morning and Rhonda absolutely detested it. Why did she think coming here was such a good idea?

Because to her core, she was still an optimistic fool.

She headed to the kitchen for her morning tea. She passed by the living room and saw what was waiting for her. Her answering machine had been blinking which meant there were new messages. She had gotten some every day. At first, she listened to them but now that it had been a week and they were all pretty much useless and had a tone of pity, she deleted them.

 _I'm going wherever you are. Call me back–_

 **Delete.**

 _I just heard the news, babe. I'm here for you. Are you ok–_

 **Delete.**

 _He was an asshole anyway. If he wa–_

 **Delete.**

 _Rhonda, we're worried about you. Sweetie, give us a call, please. Your mother has been livid and…_

She listened to her father's worried voice with closed eyes and hands gripping her green tea mug tightly. Everybody meant well but they didn't understand that she just wanted to be left alone. The one person who she wants to hear from was the one who didn't call. But what did she expect? A magic wand to wave away all her problems? This wasn't like last time when things could be so easily forgiven.

Rhonda finished her green tea, dumped the teabag into the garbage bin, and placed her mug in the sink. She was still thirsty so she poured herself a glass of orange juice. Liquids were the only things she can keep down these days. Grabbing her flip flops and her book, she stepped out into the veranda.

…

Sparkling golden hair whipped in the wind under the harsh California sun. The thirty-year-old golden girl cruised down the CA-1 N at breakneck speed. Oversized sunglasses protected her eyes from the afternoon glare. She felt wild and free with one hand on the steering wheel. It's been a hot drive from LAX even in her white cotton tank top and denim shorts but she still didn't pull up the convertible's roof. Her sneakered foot pressed harder on the pedal.

The blonde slowed when she reached Escondido and down the winding roads past stately mansions of new money. Brian, she named the GPS system after Brainy, told her to keep driving for 700 feet more before turning left. She did just that and whistled at what laid ahead of her. She parked the car in front of the huge house with an entrance hidden from view. Her long bronze legs could finally stretch after forty minutes of driving. Her tank top had stuck to her back.

 _This blasted heat. Where's the entrance?_

Blondie cocked her head and then smiled. She walked behind a high, trimmed hedge that surrounded the property and found a white gate. There was an intercom and a doorbell next to it. She let her finger do the talking.

…

 _Focus on yourself now that you're out of the bonds that tied you. You were held back by the old ball and chain. There were probably many things you wished to–_

 **BZZZ!**

 _Who could that be?_

Rhonda shrugged, in no mood to see anyone, getting back to her book. Probably just the delivery man. If there's a package for her he could just leave it by the gate.

 **BZZZ!**

She jumped and almost dropped her book. If the FedEx guy could go away so she could read her book, that'll be great

 **BZZZ!**

 **BZZZ!**

 **BZZZ!**

Rhonda growled in frustration and threw her book down. She slipped on her flip flops and hopped off her soft seat. There was so much anger in her steps that her slippers slapped against the stones with loud _thwack!s_ as she marched to her gate. Upon pressing the electronic lock and grabbing the handle, she flung the door open.

…

"What do you want?" Rhonda yelled then stalled when she saw who it was.

"You look like absolute shit."

Rhonda peered at her with shock for a moment before icily replying, "Gee, thanks."

Helga slipped off her sunglasses and stared at her friend. This was not the pristine, always-ready Rhonda Lloyd she grew up with. There were bags under her eyes and her hair was a mess, in a careless bun atop her head held by a ratty, bright pink elastic. Her face was hollower than when Helga last saw her, it made her high cheekbones pop out. And her once glowing skin was now pallid. She was wearing a baggy grey sweater which slid down her bony left shoulder and white pyjama bottoms with tiny pink teddy bears on them. The garment only highlighted how much weight she'd lost. The divorcee didn't look happy about the intrusion but she let Helga in, moving aside so she can enter the property.

The gate might have been narrow but the place was huge. Near the entrance, there was a glimmering pool with dark blue tiles that gave the illusion of depth. Just behind it stood a gorgeous Moroccan style house with heavy white pillars and broad, open arches. The windows were large, designed with the concept of letting the outside in. Helga could see through the glass into a lavish living room. There was a wide flatscreen tv and a state-of-the-art sound system inside.

To their right, stood a modern gazebo made of glass and steel and furnished with detailed rugs of varying colours, throw pillows, bean bags, and a long white sofa. It overlooked the beach. There was a book on a wicker table and a glass of what appeared to be orange juice. The beauty and groomed nature of the place emphasised the stark contrast to its unkempt owner. Rhonda followed the stone path that led to the gazebo and Helga walked behind.

They stood around awkwardly. Then Rhonda took a seat on the sofa. Helga watched the children making sandcastles down below before sitting beside her. One of them giggled and it echoed up above.

"Nice place," she commented, looking around.

"I'm glad you're impressed."

"Just by your cash and choice of a decorator."

At that, Rhonda picked up her unfinished drink.

"I decorated it, " she said.

"No shit."

"Shit."

Helga smiled. There was hope for her friend after all.

Helga leaned back, crossing her arms. "So, how've you been?"

Rhonda shot her a look that said _really?_

Helga shook her head. "Sorry, stupid question."

The dark-haired girl cut to the chase. "What are you doing here, Helga?"

"In Malibu? Living the Barbie lifestyle, don't I look the part?" she said, pointing out her outfit and blonde hair. "I want you to be my Teresa. She's the brunette, right?"

Rhonda gave her a dark glare.

"Okay, fine. The people have spoken, by people I meant Arnold, that I should pay you a visit. And by visit, I meant stay here for a month on an all-expense-paid vacation. And by all-expense-paid, I meant it will be paid by you. Cause you're a billionaire."

"Not anymore."

"You're still paying," Helga insisted.

"How'd you find me?" Rhonda's eyes narrowed."I never told you where I was."

"I have my ways," was all she said.

The brunette looked away, her gaze on the children that Helga saw earlier. Their castle was getting bigger.

"I'm fine, you know. I appreciate you coming down here but I don't need a chaperone. You can stay here while you book a return flight."

"You're so nice for not throwing me out." Helga patted her hand. "But I'm afraid you have no choice in this matter, Teresa. Like I said, the people have spoken. Barbie has spoken. Ken has spoken. You're going against Mattel on this. You're not gonna win."

Rhonda pretended she didn't hear. She was too tired to argue with Helga.

"Have you been eating well?"

"I have no appetite."

Malnutrition is dangerous for a pregnant woman. Rhonda's slight frame frightened Helga.

"You have to eat more. I'll cook for you."

She shrugged her bony shoulders.

"I'm a great cook now," Helga promised.

"I still have nightmares about how burnt those pancakes were during one of our sleepovers," Rhonda shot back.

"I'll pop a tv dinner in the microwave and you'll eat it and say you enjoyed my cooking. It'll be great."

In some ways, Helga knew her friend was like her. In a crisis, she didn't like to be coddled. She preferred to be alone and soldier through it without an audience. However, this was different. She was going through an agonising heartache, a messy divorce, and carrying her first child. Rhonda needed someone to be there. Even if she didn't realise it herself. And Helga was going to be that person. She needed to help put her friend together again like Humpty Dumpty and all the King's men. By nature, something she truly loathed about herself, Helga was a nurturer.

Plus, she needed to work on her new book. Away from her child and Arnold. She loved them to bits but lately she couldn't concentrate around them. They were an adorable distraction. She and Rhonda could have solitude together here.

"I need to write my new book. Figure it'd be easier if I crashed with one of my editors."

Not a lot of people knew about Rhonda's involvement in Helga's success and the heiress preferred it that way. For all the attention grabbing she did in high school, when it came to things that truly mattered, Rhonda didn't like receiving credit. She likes working behind the scenes.

It was one of the things that fascinated Helga about her and what made their friendship so enduring. She owed a lot to Rhonda. It was time for her to pay back.

"And you couldn't crash at Nina's?"

When she puts her mind to it, Rhonda can do sarcastic really well.

"She's editing my other book. The one that I finished three months ago. I can't bother her now. Besides, she and her husband are trying for a baby. I can't be around that," Helga said with faked disgust.

"But you can bother me?"

"Yes. Because you have the time and a gorgeous house in California."

"I knew you were only friends with me for the perks."

"Hey, as long as you let me drive the Bugatti again, we can keep talking about bikini waxes or whatever shallow things you glamorous trust fund babies do in your spare time. I'll even pretend to like your nails and organic juices."

Rhonda finally smiled. Helga and she have never once talked about bikini waxes.

"You can have the Bugatti if you want. Eddy never really drove it and I get to keep it in the divorce."

The mention of her husband dampened Rhonda's mood. She sipped at her orange juice.

"Thanks but I'm gonna have to pass. It doesn't really have space for a baby's car seat."

"Are you kidding me? The car salesman told me it's the perfect car for a mother on the go."

They shared a look. Helga burst into laughter. "A mother going straight to jail. You have to put your baby in the front seat of that sweet ride."

"It's all worth it if your infant can feel that superior leather interior," Rhonda replied.

Helga laughed louder. It's nice to know her friend's sense of humour hasn't gone missing.

"I'm starting to have doubts about you being a mom."

The blonde was making a joke but apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Rhonda's face crumpled.

"Oh no! I didn't mean it like that," she said.

"I know you don't," Rhonda cried. "You were joking."

"I'm sorry. I can be so insensitive sometimes."

Helga felt like a massive prick.

"No. _I'm_ sorry. Don't feel guilty. It's okay. It just, I–" Rhonda's voice weakened. "I have a lot of doubts about that too. And I think all these shitty hormones are messing with my head. The other day I cried at a breakfast cereal commercial, Helga. A _cereal commercial_. I think I've hit rock bottom."

"You're not broke and you have not started selling your body for money so... no. Not rock bottom yet."

Insecurities and feelings of inadequacy were common amongst first-time mothers. There's that uncertainty. The fear of screwing up someone's life. A life that wasn't your own. It's a big responsibility. Helga understood. She reached out for her friend's hand.

"Hey, I felt that same way before James arrived. I wondered if I was good enough. How can I be the perfect parent? Then I realised, I can't. No one can. Once you let that go, you'll feel less pressure. I have a feeling you'll be an excellent mother."

"I don't know about that," Rhonda said, unsure. "But I'll try my best."

"That's all we can do, really," Helga reassured her. "And, you'll learn on the job."

"I don't want my child to grow up like me."

"Rhonda."

"I'm an awful person."

Helga sighed. "No, you're not. You just made some really bad choices."

"I don't want my child to grow up to be like me. In that toxic environment."

Helga kept quiet so her friend could continue.

"Everybody had these expectations of me," Rhonda choked, her eyes were tearing up. "And I felt like I constantly can't live up. I feel like I keep letting everyone down. I do something and I disappoint someone but if I choose the other option there's someone else who gets upset. I'm so tired of having to please everyone around me."

"So don't."

Was it really that simple?

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean, princess, is that you don't owe anyone anything anymore. You married Eddy to please your parents and their friends, that was a bust. You become the ultimate Stepford wife to please Eddy, another bust. Hate to break it to you, _Rhonda-loid_ , but when you're busy being someone else, you rarely win. In fact, it sucks your soul. To the point that you have a nervous breakdown, have an affair, something you'll never do under any normal circumstance, and then file for divorce. The last one I commend you on. If you're really worried about your child, just don't raise him/her in the manner your parents raised you. Come to think of it, it's not like they neglected you or anything."

"Nope, just put a lot of pressure on me growing up."

From what Helga had observed, Rhonda had put that pressure on herself. Growing up around her mother's friends' children who all went to private schools made Rhonda insecure. It's not that Rhonda wasn't smart, it was that she constantly compared herself to prodigies manufactured by forcing excellence on a child. Children who could perform Flight of the Bumblebee on piano by age four and solve college-grade math by thirteen. They were sort of robbed of their childhoods and elitist to boot. Not their fault, they had been raised by their parents that way. The Lloyds haven't done that. They put her in public school and allowed her to figure out things for herself. Sure, they surrounded her with supplementary classes. But it was the children who were cruel and mocking to Rhonda, not that she ever told her parents. They made passing remarks at parties and told her she wasn't truly part of their group since she was only a private academy reject. Rhonda just worked her ass harder. She must ace Latin. She had to practice her French. She had to marry someone impressive. They can't see how their words affected her. If her father could rise from adversity, so could she. Rhonda was so convinced she was a failure if she didn't measure up. Helga didn't even hear about all this until one night at a high school party when the heiress got flat-out drunk and told her story crying. The stress had gotten to her.

After that, Helga couldn't despise her anymore and she kept Rhonda's secret. Luckily, she was the only one who witnessed the heiress' meltdown.

"You're not against my decision? About the divorce?" Rhonda asked, unsure.

"Why would I be? It's the best decision you've made so far. Good riddance to that piece of shit."

"He's not that bad."

"He cheated on you with a legion of women, Rhonda. Stop defending him."

"Well, I cheated too."

"Pssh, more like you cheated Curly by marrying that prick."

Rhonda winced at the name. She straightened her spine and her lips pursed in a determined manner. "Let's not justify it. What I did was wrong and I feel sick and guilty about it. Besides, Thaddeus never wanted me."

"Lies. You're lying even to yourself. Of course, he wanted you. Wants you. He just hasn't pulled his head out of his ass. For as smart as that boy is, he's a little slow on the uptake. Kind of like Arnold."

"I gave him a chance already."

"I know. It's his turn to man up," Helga said wisely.

"You haven't told him where I am, right?"

The blonde was incredulous.

"Of course not. What do you think I am? An idiot? He's got some shit to figure out before he comes crawling back to you. And trust me, he will."

The heiress clasped her fingers together. "I'm not so sure about that. He made that clear the last time we saw each other. And frankly, I don't want to see him after everything that happened."

Then, Rhonda embarrassed herself further by bursting into more tears in front of Helga. The blonde patted her back. Her shoulders shook up and down and there were heaving sobs escaping her mouth.

"Hey. There, there, sweetie. You have to get a grip. Crying at cereal commercials… Look, I know you've been through quite a lot but you can still roll with the punches. And life will keep throwing punches, some underhanded, you won't see coming, and some you can spot from a mile away… but you have to stand strong. Don't let it knock you down and if it does, get back up and win the next round. I know you, you're tough. You're a fighter. Like me."

"You think so?" Rhonda asked in a wobbly voice. She was oddly touched. She pulled a bunch of tissues from the pack Helga offered and dabbed her eyes. "I kinda got lost at all the boxing analogies but I appreciate it. I thought you only think of me as some dumb, spoiled, rich kid."

"Jeez, and I thought I had self-esteem issues. Are you kidding me? Why would I be hanging out with you if that's all I thought you were? All the notes you've given me throughout the years have helped my novels become bestsellers. You sell yourself short, Rhon."

Helga's voice became lower and emotional.

"And if it weren't for you, Arnold and I may have never gotten together. I'm here for you. Whenever you need me."

Rhonda gave her a watery smile.

The blond remembered the embarrassing instance when Rhonda and Arnold dated in high school. It lasted for a week and had been orchestrated by the QueenBee herself. Helga had been furious at the time.

* * *

" _Does it bother you at all? That I get to make out with Arnold whenever I want?" she gloated._

 _Helga's fingers curled into fists._

 _"No. Go ahead. Go nuts. You and that football-headed loser deserve each other," the blonde snapped._

 _"I can't keep my hands off him. He's so hot. In case you're wondering, his hair is as soft as it looks."_

 _"I haven't wondered anything about Arnoldo."_

 _Helga slammed her locker and walked away. Rhonda followed her. The former bully stopped and turned towards the most popular girl in school, self-proclaimed title, of course._

 _"What the fuck do you want?"_

 _Rhonda laughed. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder._

 _"He says I'm the best kisser there ever was."_

 _Arnold wouldn't say that. No. Not about Rhonda fucking Lloyd._

 _"I can't wait for Friday night. Devon's party." Rhonda grinned. "We're gonna go all the way. Arnold will be a virgin boy no more."_

 _That's it._

 _"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! You have no fucking idea what you're talking about."_

 _Their schoolmates turned their heads to see what the commotion was about. She was just about to shove the stuck up rich girl when…_

 _"Finally! A reaction,"Rhonda said, breathing a sigh of relief, ignoring the students staring at them. She looked at her nails as if they were the most interesting things on the planet._

 _Helga blinked at her._

 _"What?"_

 _The rich girl rolled her eyes._

 _"Show up at Chez Paris tonight. At 8:50. Say your date ditched you and talk to him."_

 _"Huh?"_

 _Another roll of the eyes and then a groan._

 _"He's going to be there. Waiting for me. I'm not going to show up," Rhonda said. She made a chopping motion with both hands. "Intercept."_

 _Helga still had no fucking idea what was happening._

 _"The teachers all say you're some sort of literary genius. I'm starting to doubt them. Read between the lines… Look, You obviously like Arnold. Yes?"_

 _Helga gulped. No, it can't be. Nobody knows her secret except Phoebe. Did she tell Rhonda?_

 _"I figured it out in the 8th grade," she whispered, cupping her mouth with one hand in an exaggerated manner as if she was sharing something scandalous. "After I caught you glaring daggers at Lila Sawyer when he asked her to the school dance."_

 _Oh dear God, was she that obvious? Is Rhonda going to blackmail her? Is that what's happening?_

 _"If you say a word to an–"_

 _The brunette snorted. "I'm not a dumbass."_

 _"Why are you doing this?" Helga asked, her voice smaller than she intended. "This doesn't concern you."_

 _Rhonda paused. Then she gave a slight shrug. A slow smile spread across her face._

 _"I'm a fan of true love."_

 _She started walking away. Helga stood in the middle of the hallway, shocked and completely confused. Rhonda turned one last time. "Remember, Chez Paris! 8:50. I'll find out if you don't show up. Don't be late!"_

 _Helga wasn't. She arrived on time and just like Rhonda said, Arnold sat alone at one of the tables._

"So Queen Rhonda didn't show up, huh?"

* * *

"Has Nadine come by yet?" she asked.

Rhonda had gone back to her book. Helga wanted to laugh after seeing the title but figured it wouldn't be appropriate. _How to Survive a Shitty Divorce by Elena Caspie._ She immediately liked the writer.

"Yeah, she stayed for a while but had to get back. She has work. She left two days ago. I didn't want to further trouble her." Rhonda flipped to the next page.

"Well, lucky for you, I get to work wherever there's a computer. So, a month it is. I'll be staying here, eating free food, and soaking up the sun."

Rhonda gave her friend a withering look.

"Helga, you have a toddler."

"So? Let her father take care of him. Lord knows I need a break."

Rhonda didn't budge. Helga sighed.

"I called my sister to pitch in. She has like four babies under her belt. I'm pretty sure she can handle it. They'll all be fine. Meanwhile, I get to take a vacation here in California. Which I've been told, knows how to party," she said with a wink.

Rhonda let out an inelegant snort. "You're not really here to help me, are you? You're just here to work on your tan."

Helga knew her friend felt better knowing that she will be staying with her through this rocky period. She just didn't want to admit it.

"You've figured me out," she said, raising both hands in surrender.

The new mother leaned back on the white suede sofa with a content smile.

"I have my priorities in order. By the time I leave, you will have them in order as well. First, get a tan. Second, help my friend get her shit together," she punctuated each point by counting with her fingers.

Rhonda threw a pillow at Helga which she caught before it hit her face. The brunette chuckled but then her hazel eyes became sad again. Helga smiled and looped an arm around her friend.

"Oh, you spoiled, beautiful girl. I have a feeling everything will turn out right in the end. You'll see," she whispered.

"I hope to God you're right, Helga," she croaked, feeling the waterworks starting up once more. She placed her book down. "As you are with everything else."

They stared at the beach together. The midday sky fused with the water. It was lovely. They let out contented sighs.

"Let's call Phoebe and have a slumber party. It'll just be like high school," Helga said enthusiastically. Half-joking, half-serious. "I'll even make you those burned pancakes you love so much."

Rhonda laughed. It felt good to do so.

"Then we can talk about bikini waxes… I'll get started on making the organic juices," Helga droned on.

The brunette whacked her lightly with another pillow. This time, it hit her square on the face. Their laughter could be heard by the children on the sand.


	23. Florence

**_Florence, June 2016_**

After spending a month in Los Angeles with Helga, editing her book, Rhonda had gained most of the weight she lost. Oh, Helga was still a horrible cook but they often ate out and laughed at some of the ridiculous characters they came across. California offered a dizzying array of people, some of them too strange not to look at. They even took yoga twice a week. Helga said stretching helped her during her pregnancy.

When her month was up, Helga sadly went, hugging her friend so tightly it hurt, asking her to call her if anything happens. Rhonda assured her she was feeling much better because of the blonde's visit and that she would call her every three days. But the Malibu Mansion she owned was emptier without her friend and on the third day of Helga's absence, she was beginning to get restless.

So she took a swim in her pool. When that wasn't enough to get rid of the boredom, she went down to the beach. By the time sunset rolled around, she had her suitcases packed and stuffed in her car. There was a lot of heavy breathing in the driver's seat, clutching the wheel in panic.

She had to call Helga.

"I'm going to leave the country for a while."

"What?!" she yelled, "Arnold, hold him for a moment." There was shuffling in the background. Rhonda waited. "I just got back here, in Hillwood. Do you need me to fly back there?"

"No, I'm good. I just needed to tell you. Since you said I should call if something comes up. Is this considered 'something up'?"

"Yes!" she heard Helga exhale. "Look, is this something you really want to do? You're not simply freaking out?"

Rhonda closed her eyes.

"I'm freaking out a little but I think I've spent enough time here in Malibu. And since you left, I'm kind of hating it here."

"Aww, you miss me," Helga teased.

The heiress rolled her eyes.

"A tiny bit. Look, what do you think I should do?"

There was a pause. "I thought you only called to tell me. You're asking for my advice?"

"Yeah."

Rhonda heard Arnold's voice in the back. "I could really use some help, sweetie," he said.

"I'll be right there, football-head!" Helga yelled.

Rhonda pulled the phone away from her ear.

"Sorry, James is having a bad day. Hey, if you want to go, go. You don't need my permission."

She breathed. "Okay."

"Just tell me where you're going so I don't have to worry."

"Italy."

Helga sighed. "Really? Okay, where exactly in Italy?"

"I was thinking Florence. I've never been there and I heard it's nice."

"Urgh. I hope to God you know what you're doing, Rhonda. But you're a grown woman and I trust you. Have fun in Tuscany."

Helga's vote of confidence was just what she needed. She opened the garage door and adjusted her rear-view mirror.

"Thanks, I'll call you when I land."

"Sure. Just try not to kill anyone."

"I can't promise you that but I'll try my hardest."

Helga laughed and she hung up, tossing her phone on the passenger seat. She slowly backed out of her driveway, locked the gate, and then drove all the way LAX listening to some old-school West Coast rap.

…

The flight had been awful on her back and span around 14 hours. They had a stopover in Frankfurt where she took the opportunity to run to the restrooms and vomit the airplane food she had on the flight. Not that it was bad, but her morning sickness was getting worse. It was a myth that it only happened on mornings. Rhonda felt the urge to hurl every time. Whenever she encountered an irritating person, she imagines blowing chunks onto their face and it immediately calms her down. Not only is the mental image hilarious, it was strangely satisfying.

An interesting fact she discovered, everybody was nice to her since she was pregnant which she thought was sweet. She got a pillow, some tea, and an extra hot towel. It almost made her forget about her backaches. She tried to sleep but her mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of her baby. She was going to give everything to this child. Her relationships may have been failures but there was no way she was going to screw it up with this little guy. Thirty minutes before landing, she finally fell asleep with her hand absently caressing her tummy.

It was 11pm when the Lufthansa flight landed at FLR which was confusing since they departed from Los Angeles at night too. It felt like time was stretched. She rented a car after stopping by the information counter but she stayed at the hotel airport. There was no way she was driving after the flight. She was too jet lagged. Remembering her promise, she left Helga a voice mail. As soon as she reached her room, she collapsed onto the bed and didn't wake up until the crack of dawn.

…

Thaddeus was increasingly becoming furious at the way Helga kept withholding Rhonda's location. His work had started becoming affected, he couldn't focus on numbers and business deals right now. He had far more important things to worry about. Edward reassured for the fourth time that week that Rhonda called and said she was alright. When he asked whether the blonde man knew where his ex-wife was, the guy hung up.

The other day, he yelled at Gordon Samuels, one of the interns. Then immediately apologised and made it up to the young man with lunch.

"What the hell is happening with you?" Brad asked, popping in his office.

He rubbed his face. He was so tired. He hadn't been eating well and all his free time was spent on tracking down Rhonda while everyone, even her parents, had called to tell him she was just fine. Fine? What the hell did that mean?

"I don't know."

Brad closed the door behind him and sat down one of the chairs in front of his desk. "You need to go on leave."

Thaddeus laughed then looked him dead in the eye.

"You're funny. We're in the middle of our busiest month."

"And you have been no help so far," Brad pointed out. "You've been out of focus, irritated, and just a pain to be around."

"That's not true."

Brad gave him a pointed look.

He felt guilty. "I know. But one of these days–"

"No. You're going to find my smoking hot, future wife Rhonda and come back when you've got your head screwed on straight."

"Are you granting permission or are you ordering me?" he asked, ignoring what he said about Rhonda. Brad's crush on her had been worrying in the beginning but amusing now since Brad had been happily married for about two years.

"No one's telling me where she is," he confessed.

Brad sighed. "Then figure it out. I thought you love puzzles and logic games. Come on, man. You used to force me to play chess with you all the time and I hate that game. Think." He tapped a finger on his head before rising from his seat and walking backwards to the door. Thaddeus watched him. "Think."

"You're being a very weird about this," he called after his friend.

"I'm always weird when it comes to Rhonda," Brad yelled from outside his office. "Make out with her for me!"

That would be impossible, Thaddeus thought. He figured she must hate his guts after what he's done to her. Making out would be the last thing on her mind.

…

She woke up from a steamy dream with a dark-haired lover then cursed herself. Her stupid hormones have been whacked lately. It made her intensely hungry and awakening an urge that was more embarrassing, she was always horny. Her breasts were sensitive and bigger, her skin sometimes felt like it was on fire every time she brushed up against even a semi-attractive man and her thoughts were disgustingly perverted. There was a cute Italian flight attendant from last night and she blushed whenever he asked if she needed more water. It was such a curse. Since her perverted thoughts always lead to Tha–

She wasn't going to think about him. She was in Italy. She was going to have some fun. As much fun as a single, five-months pregnant lady can have. Should not be a problem. Once she retrieved her car, she stopped by at a grocery store to buy some original flavour potato chips, her only weakness. The cravings started to hit her after Helga visited. At first, it was only something to wash off the taste of burnt pancakes. Then the taste grew on her.

It was an hour-long drive from the airport to Panzano in Chianti. The city slowly fading into rolling hills of the Tuscan countryside. It's like something out of a postcard. She passed by vineyards and grand Italian houses. The sky was a beautiful cerulean blue with only a few puffy white clouds. There was a sign that said she was close to her destination.

There was someone she had to visit.

If she couldn't go back to her family and face their questions and inane coddling, she'd go to the next best thing. Hopefully, she'll have a place to stay by the end of the day.

…

He finally had an idea where she could be. He felt stupid for not thinking about it before. Well, Helga's hint that Rhonda had finally left the country helped him figured it out. She sounded mildly alarmed before informing him that she had spent a month with Rhonda at California. Thad wanted to scold her but realised he had no right. Instead, he breathed calmly and thanked her for telling him.

At Brad's insistence, he took an indefinite leave. He figured he could use it since he hasn't had a vacation in four years.

After swiftly packing his bags, he booked the latest one way trip to Rome and drove himself to O'Hare International Airport. Following his nine-hour flight, he didn't stop to rest, paying no attention to his tired bones. He rented a small car and hurried to his grandparents' apartment. On the way over, he rehearsed in his head what he wanted to say.

He parked haphazardly and ran up the steps. Thaddeus opened the door and groaned upon finding the apartment empty. He spent the night there before promising himself he'd think of the next course of action in the morning.

…

Alfredo never told her to help around the house but she did. It was the least she could do. She took a walk every day since she arrived and focused on growing her baby. Then, she'd sweep around the house, help cut vegetables during meal preparations, and go to town to buy groceries so she could sharpen her Italian by talking to the grocers. It had been five days since her arrival and they lived peacefully in Alfredo's huge house.

He told her it had been lonely since Thaddeus' grandaunt, Alessandra, died a few years back. He'd been getting up in age and left the restaurant to one of his grandchildren, Ernesto. He moved back to Florence to be with his children. Rhonda thought he seemed glad to have someone to talk to.

She had to tell him the truth, figured she owed him that much, so when she arrived that noon in her beat up rental car and her unwashed hair, she confessed what had happened between his grandnephew and her. Instead of commenting on it, Alfredo just showed her the room she could stay in and told her that he'd prepare her some food for lunch since she might be hungry. It stunned Rhonda but she was thankful.

There was something magical about the place. Most nights, she would sit on the hammock Alfredo had put up. When he went to town on Wednesday and asked if she'd like to come along, she agreed. There, she met Lucia, one of his children. The fifty-year-old looked similar to her cousin, Thaddeus' mother, Allegra, but this lady was taller. As tall as Rhonda. Her features were also more defined. She spoke great English and taught Rhonda how to make real Carbonara.

"The key is to keep stirring after putting in the eggs," Lucia had said as they cooked in her cramped kitchen.

Rhonda remembered the advice, as though one day in the future, she might decide to whip up a dinner for her friends. Alfredo and she ate at his daughter's house. It was home filled with laughter and love, watching their family made Rhonda wistful. Her two teenage boys were naughty but respectful and her husband, Michael, an engineer, was delightful with his silly stories.

They got back to Alfredo's house in silence. She drove and the old man fell asleep in the passenger seat. She smiled as she glanced at him through the mirrors. Rhonda fell asleep dreaming of happy families.

It was Friday morning, as she was picking strawberries in Alfredo's front yard when a blue car pulled up from a distance. She didn't pay it any mind until she saw the man who came out. As fast as she could, she hid behind the strawberry bushes.

"Damn," she cursed under her breath.


	24. Florence II

**_Florence, June 2016_**

He must have seen her while he had been driving because he turned exactly to where she was hiding. But he didn't walk over. Instead, he entered the house. She only popped her head out when he was inside and breathed a sigh of relief. She could make a run for it, right? Even if all her belongings were in the bedroom. Who needs a passport and money to travel?

She plopped back down on the dirt and stared at the sky.

How the hell did he find her?

A few minutes had passed and she was still not any closer to figuring out a plan. She could always just stay here, meld with the ground and maybe grow into a strawberry plant. Her skin prickled when she heard footsteps.

"I can see you behind the plant," he said flatly.

"No way. I'm invisible. Go away," she yelled back, hoping he'd skip both of them the torture, book a flight back to the U.S. and leave her alone.

"I just need to talk to you. I've spent two months trying to track you down. Talking to me is the least you could do."

She shot up to her feet and whipped towards the sound of his voice. Rhonda knocked back at how awful he looked. Almost as haggard as her before Helga came along in California. He hasn't shaved in days and had grown a stubble. His eyes were red as if he haven't gotten any sleep. There were large bags under them too. The shirt and pants he was wearing were extremely rumpled. They obviously haven't met an iron in quite some time. Except for his new haircut, this was the most unkempt she'd seen him.

"You look like hell," she spat.

"Thanks, I feel like it," he swiftly replied, brown eyes aimed at her. Then his gaze softened after travelling to her swollen belly. She pulled her sweater tighter to cover it.

"You shouldn't have come here."

Thaddeus shrugged, taking steps forward. He stopped three feet in front of her. "Last I checked, this was my grand-uncle's house. Imagine my surprise, when you were here," he drawled.

Her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"You just said you were tracking me down."

"Yeah. Trust me, this was an accident. I never expected to find you here. I thought you'd be in Rome."

She tried to breathe and not to blindly follow her instinct which was to run as fast as her feet could take her. Firstly, she was sure he could outrun her and second, she might hurt her baby. She settled for crossing her arms.

He ran a hand through his short hair and let out a frustrated breath.

"I know it doesn't sound like it but I'm glad to see you," he said.

"That's a coincidence, I feel the exact opposite."

Thad's dark eyes studied her face. She turned to move towards the house and he was up close in a flash. His voice was low and serious. "We need to talk."

"I don't think so. Whatever we had to say to each other, we said in Chicago." She leaned in closer so he knew she meant business. "Please move."

When he didn't, she went around him but he stopped her by extending his long arm.

"I miss you."

She froze as if she'd been doused with cold water. She wanted to laugh at his face. He told her to go back to her husband. He was the one who asked her to go away. Now that she was asking him to do the same thing, he wasn't even giving her the courtesy of doing that.

"Get out of my way," she snapped. "Unless you want me to bite your stupid arm off."

"No. Not until you let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. I've heard it all. Now, let me go while we're still civil to each other."

He gave a bark of mad laughter. He held his hands out as he asked and glanced around, "This is civil?"

Her temper flared. "Trust me, this is civil."

"I'll talk fast. If you could just listen to me."

She shook her head angrily. "I don't have to. I don't owe you anything."

"I've thought of nothing but you since I let you leave," he rasped.

That wasn't enough, Rhonda thought. She wasn't going to run back to his arms just because he suffered. She had suffered too. This wasn't right. She only had the strength to do one goodbye. Why was he putting her through this?

"You're not doing this here. I don't have to be here to listen to your mad babbling. As far as I'm concerned, we're done."

She walked away from him. This time, he didn't physically stop her.

"I want you back," he called out with a strangled voice.

 _Fuck._

She whipped around. He looked embarrassed.

"Are you insane? You want me back? Are you on drugs? What the hell are you on about?" she screamed. "You don't get to say that! You don't–" She breathed in, clutching her stomach. "Get out of here," she whispered.

"I want you and I'm not afraid to say it anymore."

Her mouth twisted bitterly. Her defence mechanisms were kicking in.

"I don't think you really want to be with me. I think you got bored. Haven't taken your Adderall lately?"

Rhonda hated herself for saying those ugly words and tried to snatch them back but he ignored her dig at his mental disorder.

"That's not true. I've wanted you even back then. It started two decades ago."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Right. Of course, that's why you ended things when we had a chance in Rome."

She couldn't breathe. Why was he here?

"Rhonda, that doesn't–"

"Count? Why? Because you're the one who left? Never called for three fucking years and I had to be the one to insert myself into your life again? I get to be the piece of shit who leaves this time." She pointed at her chest. "It's my turn."

He didn't speak for the longest time. His chest puffed out as he took long drags of the Tuscan air. She began to head for the house again when his desperate plea landed on her ears.

"Can't you see? I ended it because I was scared you'll leave! I was scared you'd change your mind. I didn't want to trick myself into a false sense of security and happiness. Being with you was my childhood dream. If you were the one who ended things, it would have devastated me like it did in high school. It was better if I left first."

His voice broke. "Because that way, _I_ won't get hurt. But I was wrong. Even when I was the one who ended things, it was still painful. And I've been fighting what I've been feeling for years thinking that I'd be happier. And I wasn't. I've been miserable. I've made us both miserable."

She watched it unfold before her eyes. He was opening up his soul to her. His mouth was twisted in a bitter scowl.

"I hated that you married Eddy. I despised it. More importantly, I hated that I didn't stop you. That day on the beach. Before your wedding. I wanted to–to tell you… to tell you what I've really felt from the very beginning. The moment I laid eyes on you. But you said… you said you loved him, and we were friends and I didn't want to screw that up as well. If we weren't, there wasn't a reason for us to spend time together anymore."

His brown eyes were pleading with her. Begging her to understand. But her heart had toughened up. The defences were strong and tall.

"Beautiful performance," she said flatly.

"It's the truth," he argued.

"That was such a long time ago."

"I know."

She turned her focus to the lines of strawberries in Alfredo's yard. They needed to be harvested since their season was almost over. The ripe, juicy, red fruits hang precociously off the ends of the branches. She picked one and let it fall to her feet.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" Rhonda questioned. "What's so goddamn important that you had to go looking for me now?"

"That I– I," the words were stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath then looked her straight in the eye. It was either her baby or her stomach that flipped. "I love you, Rhonda. I don't care if you're carrying his child. I don't care if you say no to me right now. I have to tell you. I have to. I love you. Even if you don't love me back, it's okay."

He inched closer towards her.

She shook her head, slowly stepping away from him. He was hurting. It showed on his face. But he can't do this. Not now. She was getting better. Getting used to the idea of being alone. She was surviving.

"You're just saying that. You don't mean it," she said fiercely.

"No! I love you. I'm in love with you. You have to believe me. I've wasted so much time." There was regret in his voice but she didn't want to listen to it.

"Stop it! It's too late," she insisted. "I deserve someone better."

He continued pleading, stepping forward. "I love you. You know that. But you're scared too. And it's alright,"

"Stop saying that! It's not true. Just leave me alone."

"I'm not leaving Italy without you," he said quietly.

Her fury burned hot and bright. She was a woman possessed. "Leave me alone. I don't want you here. I hate you," she growled, poking a finger at his chest.

He shook his head. "No, you don't."

"Fuck off," she lashed out before turning away and walking as fast she could away from him. He caught up to her, matching her pace.

"Not this time. I'm not letting you get away again. I'll fight for you."

She stopped, spun around, and threw a weak punch at him. He dodged it easily, leaning to one side.

"This is such bullshit," she yelled, her whole body quivering with anger. "You're not wanted here. Go back home, Thaddeus."

Her angry tears slid down her cheeks.

"Not until you come with me," he said, not willing to back down. She didn't understand how he could be so calm. "I'm done running away from you. This time, I'm the one who won't leave you alone. I'm the one taking action. You've done enough for the both of us."

She sank to the ground and cried. He slowly sat down and stayed by her side.

…

He kept his word. It had been nearly a week and he still hasn't left. He occupied the guest bedroom near the living room while she stayed upstairs. They didn't talk much and gave each other wide berth but they couldn't avoid each other during dinner. Most nights, it was Alfredo who would start the conversation. Rhonda would nod politely and give short answers. Thaddeus did the same.

Rhonda knew he didn't seek her out because he was waiting for her. He had already opened the dialogue, it was her turn to respond.

She spent most of her time out in the garden. He spent his in town. Sometimes, she saw him riding his grand-uncle's old bicycle around. One afternoon, when he got back from town, it just so happened that she was coming down to the kitchen to fetch herself some juice and the strawberries she'd picked. She discovered him kneading bread. Their eyes met but this time, she didn't look away.

"When are you going back to work?" she demanded.

"I'm on leave."

"Wow, the great workaholic Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, missing work. Did I miss something? Has the apocalypse began?"

"Maybe. Too early to tell."

She inspected her nails.

He sighed, continuing his work with the rolling pin. The flour flew in the air in puffy white smoke around him. "Brad's covering for me."

She smiled tightly. "Lucky him."

"Sure," he replied sullenly.

She walked past him to the fridge to retrieve the jug. Alfredo liked freshly squeezed orange juice. Rhonda did too.

"Your parents are worried about you," he finally said.

Only when she had a glass in hand did she speak. She took a slow sip before replying.

"Why? Are going to call them again like you did last time? Get mommy to fetch me?"

At that, he flushed red with guilt.

"Yeah, they told me before I left. Real heart to heart session. Funny, huh? How did my mother know exactly which apartment we were staying? Such a coincidence."

His jaw tightened. The dough suffered under a heavier hand.

"Your family loves you."

"Yeah, they loved me enough to force me to marry Eddy."

His brows furrowed. "You married Eddy on your own volition."

He got her there but she was too proud to back down. She wanted to draw blood. "I sure as heck wasn't going to ask you to marry me."

He placed down the rolling pin. "I don't want to fight you."

She pushed herself away from the countertop.

"Tough tits. I'm telling you, leave now or I'll leave."

"Rhonda–"

"I've had enough of this. This is a warning, Thaddeus. Don't mess with me."

She took the whole pitcher of orange juice and left him, already feeling emptier without his presence.

...

Even after her big threat that afternoon, Thaddeus showed no signs of leaving. He offered her the bread he had been making but she ignored him even though it smelled delicious and she was hungry. She ate oatmeal instead. Then snacked on some yogurt and potato chips. Alfredo returned at around dusk with a few bottles of wine and packed pasta. He'd visited his daughter Lucia, Thaddeus' cousin once removed. The relatives spoke in Italian, too fast for Rhonda to understand, as she read her novel on a hammock outside. It hung in between two trees and she enjoyed the breeze brought by the early evening. She saw the old man walking over after finishing his conversation with his grandnephew.

The sun had set but she could still see a strip of orange over the horizon.

"Good evening, _mia_ ," Alfredo greeted her.

She nodded at him with a smile. "How's Lucia?"

"Good, good." He gestured to the hammock. "May I sit?"

She adjusted herself to make space for him. "Of course. Join me."

The hammock tilted a bit when the old man sat beside her. They both looked at the house. The only light turned on was the one in the kitchen. Thaddeus was cooking and they could see him through the window. She turned away, unable to look at him for too long. Alfredo noticed this.

"You have to talk to him, _bella,_ " he murmured in his lovely Italian accent.

"I already did. I told him to leave."

Alfredo shook his head. "Avoiding him won't do you any good," he said gently.

She held the man's hand. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, _tio_ , but I– I don't trust myself around him. I go crazy. I forget that I'm supposed to hate him."

"So don't."

She frowned and felt herself getting sad again. "It's not that simple. We already decided to be separate. Your _pronipote_ and I are not good for each other."

He gave her a sceptical side-eye.

"How so? I've only seen him happy whenever he's with you."

"That was years ago."

Almost eleven to be exact. Not that she was counting.

"Nonsense. I saw you only a while back."

She forgot that they visited Rome together while they still had their affair. That was three years ago.

"It's not the same. We're…" How could she explain it to him?

For someone from an older generation, someone she had been expected to be conservative, Alfredo had been incredibly understanding when it came to her. He accepted her with open arms, no questions asked when she showed up at his doorstep.

"I know. It's _difficile._ When love is real and big, it can be quite painful," he commented.

She nodded. Biting her tongue so she doesn't cry.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him so soon, _cara ragazza._ Just hear him out. Listen to what he has to say. And if you don't like it, you can kick him to the curb. Even though I have to be honest, I'll be quite disappointed if you do. I'd like you to be part of my family."

She smiled at him.

"I can't promise you that," she said softly.

He sighed. "Listen to your heart, _signorina_ , what does it say?"

It said that she does need to have a conversation with him but her stubbornness was getting the better of her. To humour Alfredo, she said what she knew he wanted to hear.

"Okay, I'll talk to him."

He squeezed her hand. The feel of his warm, paper-thin skin comforted her. "You have to tell him about your child, my dear."

This time, it was her who sighed. She knew that she had to but she had been dreading it from the moment he arrived. Rhonda stood up, dragging Alfredo with her.

"Come on, _a mangiare._ Let's have dinner and tell me more about Lucia. I have to visit her again soon."

…

She packed her suitcases that night. Rhonda knew she couldn't stay in Panzano anymore. Not when Alfredo was on Thaddeus' side already. Blood _is_ thicker than water. At the stroke of midnight, she opened her door as quietly as she could, lugged her suitcases slowly down the stairs. There was a voice in her head that was yelling at her that she was being deranged. She quickly snuffed the voice out. With an elbow, she pulled down the doorknob, opened the front door and stepped out. It slammed behind her. It was dark out but there was something that caught her eye.

Thaddeus was sitting on the hammock watching her.

He was wearing a black shirt and dark pants. It made his face paler against the dark landscape. Only the front door's light illuminated him. Even from where she was standing, she could tell he had a big frown on. She dropped her suitcases in shock. They knocked against the stone floor.

So began their standoff.

"Leaving so soon?" he called out. A barn owl hooted in the distance.

She glowered at him, wishing she had the strength to throw one of her large Samsonites at his stupid, smug face. It was cold. Rhonda adjusted her red sweater. The leaves of the trees rustled, dancing to the midnight wind. She walked over to the hammock and gave it a swift kick. It tilted enough that Thaddeus stumbled out. But before he fell to the soil, he managed to pick himself up and stand straight in front of her. He crossed his arms, looking like a bored teenager. A strand of his hair blocked his left eye and she willed her hand to stay by her side and not to adjust it.

"I love you but you're starting to piss me off," he said in a low voice.

"Good," she retorted. "Were you just waiting for me to leave?"

He shrugged. "I had a feeling you were going to flee tonight. Turns out I was right."

"Or you heard me packing," she growled.

"That too," he admitted.

She placed her hands on her hips and tried to stand taller. It was no use. He still had three inches on her even with the boots she was wearing. She had to look up at him and it made her feel small and feeble. Instead, she opted for her meanest scowl.

"You might think it's cool or romantic that you're waiting for me in the dark but it's actually creepy."

"It's sort of my thing," he grinned, his teeth shining in the darkness. "Being a creep. I've been told since elementary that I'm quite good at it."

His flippant response further annoyed her.

"I was enjoying my vacation here in Tuscany but now that you've shown up, I can't stay here. You and your uncle are in cahoots." She pointed an accusatory finger at his face.

"Oh my God… and they call _me_ crazy," he breathed.

He tucked his hands into his jean pockets. His lips were set on a tight line. There was something wild about his eyes that reminded her of their childhood. Like he was losing his patience with her. It was a familiar look that he wore all through their senior year of high school.

"He asked me to talk to you this evening. What have you been saying to him?" she whispered loudly.

"Nothing! You're the one with the big mouth who told him everything. The minute I arrived here, he scolded me for dallying with a married woman even though he did the same thing in his youth. What a hypocrite. I've heard the stories. My _prozio_ was quite the ladies man back in the day. Before he settled down with my grandaunt."

She frowned. Curious to know more about Alfredo's sordid past but furious that Thaddeus had distracted her. "I'm leaving," she declared.

"No, you're not. You're five months pregnant. You're not going anywhere in the middle of the night. Who's going to give you a ride here in the middle the Tuscan countryside?" he asked snidely.

After hearing that, she gazed at the long road. Not one vehicle had passed by since she walked out of the house. People slept early in this part of the province. He made a lot of sense but she was too headstrong to listen.

"I'll find someone."

She walked back to retrieve her bags. He was in front of her in seconds, blocking her way.

"You're not going anywhere tonight. I won't let you."

"It will be wise of you to get out of my way," she hissed, trying to sidestep him but he was faster than she was. Not only was he an ex-athlete, she was carrying a watermelon in her stomach. After a few tries, she was panting. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place. The touch burned her.

"Will you stop?" he barked.

She stopped. She let out a huge exhale. Then made another run for it, which he prevented, of course.

"Let go of me," she wheezed.

He let her go, eyeing her warily. "If you move again, I will restrain you," he warned her.

"Fine."

He outranked her in physical strength. If he didn't want her to leave, she couldn't possibly fight him in her condition. She felt scrubbed raw. Exposed. In front of the man who already rejected her. She remembered something he said. "How'd you know I'm five months pregnant?"

"Edward told me," he said, confused why she chose to focus on that.

"What else did Eddy tell you?"

"Nothing else. Why?"

Edward had kept her dirty secret. That the child wasn't his. That the father had no idea he was going to be a baby daddy in four months.

"Rhonda?"

"What?" she snapped.

"You just look like you had something on your mind."

She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing that I'd share with you."

His lips curled. "I figured." He faced away from her then walked away, dry leaves crunching underneath his feet. He picked up her bags. "I'm carrying these back to the house."

He nudged the door with a foot and went it. He carried her heavy luggage as if it was nothing. She hated him a bit more, glaring daggers at his back.

"I'm leaving first thing in the morning," she said tightly, following him inside.

"Of course, you are," he said over his shoulder.

He was humouring her but she didn't care. She suddenly felt tired. If she left in the morning, that doesn't mean that she had lost, right? They walked up the steps as quietly as they could, not wanting to wake up Alfredo. He placed her black suitcases by the foot of the closet. She sat down on the edge of the single bed and forced herself to calm down. This was a minor setback. She can escape tomorrow, with a plan, and never have to talk to him again. It'll be great.

He whipped around to face her and stared her down. Without looking away, he closed the bedroom door with one hand.

"Please do try more effective escape plans in the future. I can't wait to foil them."

"Please do try to have more sarcasm in your tone," she shot back. "I can't wait for you to get struck by lightning."

His tired eyes implored her. She had a crazy thought that maybe he had been waiting for her to try to leave for every day of the week. That he hadn't been sleeping just to catch her. She didn't know why the theory brought her so much joy.

"Rhonda, you can't run from me forever. I just want to talk."

"And I just want you to go away. Oh!" She widened her eyes in mock surprise. "It looks like we all can't have our wishes fulfilled."

"Why are you being so difficult?" he asked.

"Why are you being so difficult?" she mimicked his voice.

He appeared genuinely disturbed.

Okay, she was beginning to regress into a five-year old but she was seriously mad at him. And they were near a bed. A detail that had not escaped her notice. This only further irritated her but she squashed it down. When she divorced Eddy, she said to herself that she wasn't going to run from her responsibilities. She realised this was a cop out. She looked at him closely for only the second time that week. He was gazing down at her with concerned eyes, his dark brows furrowed. He stood firmly, thumbs hooked to his pockets, like he had all time in the world. Then it clicked.

"You're not leaving," he growled. "And I'm not leaving you."

Looking up at him, hearing the determination in his voice, she started to believe him. If she was going to leave, he was going to follow her. They had put each other through a lot and it was high time she told him the truth. If he could open up to her, it was only fair she did the same. No matter how hard it was going to be. The knowledge swept her worries away and everything felt right as though it was time.

She could say everything she had on her mind. He could say his piece. And like Alfredo had told her earlier that evening, if she didn't like it, she doesn't have to take it.

"I apologise for acting like a child," she said and she couldn't blame him for looking so surprised. "If you–" She cleared her throat. "If you want to talk, we can talk now. I've been acting crazy."

He considered her offer with a reluctant shift of his mouth.

"Can I?" He gestured to the bed, suddenly unsure.

"Yeah. Might as well." She made space for him and smoothed the comforter. "Sit down."

The mattress dipped under his weight. He sat further away from her than he usually would have so as not to make her uncomfortable. Thaddeus looked awkward on the small bed. His limbs were too long, and his knees were close to his chest. The bed's legs were really short.

She smoothed her pants that had bunched up when she sat down.

"So…" she heard him begin.

She put up a hand. "I need to speak first."

"Okay," he said quietly.

Rhonda glanced at Thaddeus.

"First of all, you didn't have to come down here." Disappointment flooded his features. "But I'm glad you did."

His eyes snapped back to hers. She quirked one shoulder to appear more indifferent. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest. The sounds of loud drums thumped in her ears. He was eagerly paying attention to everything that she said. It was so different from his laid-back, aloof mask. She made her tone as even as possible.

"After what happened in Chicago, I didn't want to face you anymore. I can't go through something like that again. So I ran. But, now that I think about it, when we were younger, I rejected you countless of times…"

"You were right to do so. I came on to you way too strong," he reminded her.

"Yes. However, you didn't hide, you didn't quit."

He seemed confused. "I don't think that was a good quality."

"It wasn't when the feelings weren't mutual but… with what happened with us– I think I'm also to blame."

Her pride was taking a serious beating but she pushed on.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his nose crinkled. He was even more puzzled which made her smile.

"I fell in love with you in Rome. A long time ago," she finally admitted. It was like a load had been lifted off her shoulders.

His head slowly turned to her direction as if he couldn't believe what he had heard.

"Don't look so shocked. Like you didn't know."

He shook his head wildly. His hands gripped his knees as he breathed deeply.

"Okaaay. Obviously, we both handled everything really badly but me? Even more so," she said.

That seemed to aggravate him. "What are you talking about? I was the one who ended things after Rome. I'm the one to blame."

She raised her brows. He stopped talking.

"Let's not point fingers. Yes, you tried to do the fade away but I could have called. I could have shown up at your university but I didn't. I took the coward's way too. And it sucked because I really missed you after that summer."

One edge of his mouth curled up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "And I didn't do anything about it. Didn't say what I really felt. Not after years had passed. And when we met again, I was just so happy to have you back, so eager to have you in my life again that I didn't want to mess it up by moving too quickly."

"So you decided we should be friends?"

She nodded.

"I thought it was the best decision. You were dating other women."

"Because you practically spelled out we could only be friends."

"I know!" she screamed, then remembered Alfredo was just down the hall. She toned it down. "I know. But– seeing you with other women upset me. At the time, I didn't know why… but I was so angry, and sad. I didn't know how to handle my emotions. Emotions too extreme for me to comprehend at the time. I lashed out. I–"

He waited.

She gazed at him. Truly look at him, to get him to understand. She aimed for a smile but felt her cheeks wobble.

"I never really loved anyone in that way before… Before you."

Thaddeus dipped his head, trying to process everything she was telling him. "You never–you never said anything," he exhaled.

"Yeah. You know what happened. I met Eddy. And I had to marry him. In those days, I felt like who I was, my identity, was closely linked to my family's fortune. I'm not like the anymore. But, at that stage, I couldn't imagine going about it on my own and I relied on him. Eddy was my rock. And I was his. He understood. He came from that world."

Thaddeus' face twisted.

"What happens now?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"I want us to…" She paused. To truly think about it. After a while, she knew she had her answer. "I want us to stop playing all these games. You said you love me. And I," she swallowed her tears back. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm starting to believe you."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Rhonda, I'm sorry about what I said. Back in Chicago."

"I knew you were lying when you said it and that's what hurt. That you didn't fight for me."

She was crying then. Rhonda wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her cardigan. Thaddeus watched her, still keeping the space between them.

"That's never going to happen again," he said gruffly.

"Maybe. I don't know for sure. But I'd like you to try."

The earnest expression on his face was exactly what she needed.

"I was a coward," he said, closing his eyes. "You know that saying 'You never really forget your first love'?"

She rolled her eyes, sniffling. "Everybody knows that saying."

He chuckled. "Well, that's what I was trying to do in high school. Forget about you. There's only so many times you can say no to a guy before he finally feels like shit. Even so, I should have gotten the hint earlier. But you became an obsession. An addiction. I decided one day that it couldn't go on. As silly as it sounds, I kind of went cold turkey."

"You're comparing me to a nicotine addiction? It's not the most flattering comparison."

"Yes. And you're just as potent."

"Nice recovery."

"Thanks." He smiled and reached out for her hand. "I started getting involved in running and blocked you out of my mind when I was on the track. When I wasn't, I tried my best to avoid you. It worked. We graduated and I thought I'd never see you again. Then it came crashing down when we met in Rome."

She laughed. "So you had another cigarette."

"You could say that. And I had the worst relapse. I binged. I craved you. It was unhealthy. I knew I was falling back again so I tried to stop it early. Nip it in the bud. Never get dumped by you again."

He shrugged in defeat. "Look how that turned out," he said.

They both sighed. Finally aware of all the times they both messed up. They were aware of each other's flaws and weaknesses. The ability to admit it to themselves as well as to each other was a feat. Together, they were stronger for it.

"We're such screw-ups, huh?" she reflected.

"There might be hope for us yet," he replied.

She had to tell him.

"I have something else I needed to tell you. To be totally honest." She gulped. This is it. The fact that might make him run away. "The child's not Eddy's."

Thaddeus sucked in a breath.

"It's yours."

Everything within him stilled. Rhonda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He must be terrified out of his skin right now. His breathing had become shallow bursts. His face had gone completely pale.

"You mean… I–" he cleared his throat. "I'm going to be a father?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to be a father," he said slowly. "Wow… I– It's– Are you sure? Are you sure it's mine?" He sounded choked up.

"Pretty sure," she confirmed.

"Is it– Will it be a boy or a girl?" he asked, his eyes were on the tiled floor.

"A boy."

She had found out some time ago in California when she visited an OB/GYN with Helga.

Surprisingly, her answer appeared to sadden him. He seemed to withdraw within himself. This wasn't what she was expecting. She expected him to be shocked, not depressed.

"Thaddeus?"

He clutched his shaking hands together between his legs, elbows propped on his thighs. His dark head bowed over. "You don't– Do you think he'll turn out like me?" he whispered. He shook his head. "I wouldn't want him to."

His reaction broke her heart. Instead of thinking about himself, he immediately thought of their child. She wrapped an arm around him and shifted to his side. She thought about the boy Thaddeus had been, manic and mocked. Wild and outcast. He had a tough time as a child.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. His father did just fine in the end," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. She let her arm fall so she could rub his back. "You know, a wise blonde girl once told me that there's no perfect parent. We all just have to try our best. I think she's right, don't you?"

He gave a jerky nod.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I cast you out of my apartment. You can bring it up whenever I screw up in the future, turkey sandwich," he whispered.

 _The future._ She released a shaky breath. At the mention of his old ridiculous pet name for her, she knew everything will be fine.

"It's okay. From now on we just have to tell each other things. It'll save us a whole lot of trouble. Stop worrying so much, banana split."

Thaddeus gave her a long side glance before sitting a little straighter. He tilted his head, not looking away. The longer strands of his crisp haircut flopping to one side. Then he leaned in and kissed her. Fireworks exploded in front of her eyes. She missed his lips. The soft way they caressed against hers. The feeling in her stomach that reminded her of falling. The way he smelled of oranges and lemons. What was that smell? Was it his shampoo? She had to find out. She sighed happily before they broke apart, their foreheads touching, eyes only on each other.

"I love you. I'm going to make it up to you. Even if it takes our whole lives," he breathed.

 _Another kiss._

"How?" she gasped.

"One, I'm never telling you to get lost, ever again," he said, cradling her face. He planted on her cheek.

"Even when I've caught you watching porn and masturbating?" she joked.

"Especially when you've caught me watching porn and masturbating, you little pervert," he said with a wide smile. "Two, I'll give you more children if you'd let me."

She really started crying then. His thumbs wiped away her tears. He gave each eye a kiss each to stop her from crying.

"Thaddeus…"

He went back to her lips for another deep kiss.

"Three, I'm going to ask you to marry me."

Her lips stretched in the biggest smile. "I'd say yes." The troubled heiress struggled to remember when she had last felt so happy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, "For the record, I love you too."

Then she tugged on his shirt and tossed it near the door. They smiled at each other like fools. High on life and drunk on love. Thaddeus matched her wide grin and whispered, "I'm so glad we've finally figured it out."

They both laughed. Falling on the tiny bed. Thaddeus propped himself up on top of her, careful of her pregnant belly. He traced her lips with a finger.

"We have to be quiet. My uncle is sort of down the hall," he said before going down on her neck.

"This feels very high school," she pointed out.

He popped up. "You're not still thinking of leaving in the morning, are you?" he asked. "I'll sneak in the trunk of the car you're taking if you do. By the way, Brad's going to be happy we're making out."

Rhonda giggled. She crinkled her nose in mock disgust and smacked his bare chest. "You're bringing up Brad right now? You're such a weirdo."

"I'm your weirdo."

 _True._ Rhonda thought and she couldn't be happier.


End file.
